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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


7 

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FOR   HONOR  AND   LIFE 


H  IHovel 


BY 


WILLIAM   WESTALL 


AUTHOR    OF 


HER   TWO   MILLIONS"    "A    FAIR    CRUSADER' 
"A  FHAN'TOM  CITY"  "BIRCH  DENE"  ETC. 


NEW    YORK 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS    PUBLISHERS 

1894 


\,  by  Hari  hers. 

All  rights  rtser 


0 


CONTENTS 


CHAP.  PAGE 

I.   A  LANCASHIRE   LAD I 

H.    TRYING   TIMES 8 

III.  MOB    LAW 15 

IV.  TO   THE   LANTERN 1 8 

V.    A   FORLORN   HOPE 24 

VI.   FOR   HONOR 31 

VII.    FOR   LIFE 41 

VIII.    UP   A   TREE 48 

IX.    ANGELIQUE 55 

X.    A   SURPRISE 62 

XI.    TEN   HEADS 73 

XII.    HIDE-AND-SEEK 8 1 

XIII.  MADAME   DUFOUR 90 

XIV.  THE   VICOMTE'S    PROPOSAL 99 

XV.   THE  INCIDENT   OF   THE   FLOWER-POT IO9 

XVI.    CITIZEN   SERIN   FIRES   A   PISTOL 115 

XVII.    BAD   NEWS 123 

XVIII.    IN   PERIL 131 

XIX.    THE   RAVEN       .       .       .       , I3S 

XX.    A  NEW   ACQUAINTANCE 144 

XXI.    QUITE    OUT    OF   THE   QUESTION 151 

XXII.    KNIGHTS   OF   THE  DAGGER 157 

XXIII.  TILL   WE   MEET   AGAIN l66 

XXIV.  AT   THE    GOLDEN    PIG 1 73 

XXV.    DOGGED iSo 

XXVI.    BETRAYED l88 

XXVII.    HOLDING   THE   PASS    .      .      , I94 


IV  CONTENfS 


PAGE 


CHAP. 

XXVIII.  CAPTURED ig-j 

XXIX.  IN    PRISON 204 

XXX.  WE   MEET   AGAIN 213 

XXXI.  LIGHT 221 

XXXII.  A   MESMERIZED  WARDER 22Q 

XXXIII.  I    MAKE   AN    END    OF    DEPUTY    SERIN 239 


XXXIV.    IiY    LAND   AND   SEA 


249 


FOR   HONOR  AND   LIFE 


CHAPTER    I 
A    LANCASHIRE    LAD 

My  father  was  a  born  Switzer,  of  Canton  Berne,  and  came 
of  a  family  which  for  generations  had  produced  soldiers  of 
fortune,  most  of  whom  served  in  the  Swiss  regiments  of  the 
French  kings. 

Others  of  the  Von  Astors,  who  were  ever  a  prolific  race, 
took  to  the  professions  and  to  trade.  Among  these  was  a 
certain  Frederic  von  Astor.  Having  a  shrewd  head  for  busi- 
ness and  a  turn  for  science,  he  betook  himself  to  Elsass, 
studied  practical  chemistry,  and  served  a  long  apprenticeship 
to  the  arts  of  dyeing  and  calico  printing.  After  a  while  he 
received  an  invitation  to  proceed  to  Lancashire,  where  he 
obtained  an  important  position  in  the  house  of  Peel,  Yates 
&  Co.  But  Frederic  Astor  was  too  enterprising  to  serve 
long  in  a  subordinate  capacity.  He  dropped  the  "  von,"  set 
up  for  himself,  married  a  Lancashire  wife,  and  became  a 
British  subject  and  my  father. 

Of  his  three  brothers,  one  was  in  the  French  Guards,  an- 
other in  the  army  of  Holland,  the  third  in  the  army  of  Na- 
ples. My  maternal  grandfather  was  also  a  soldier ;  he  served 
with  distinction  at  Dettingen,  Fontenoy,  Culloden,  and 
Quebec, 
i 


2  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

So  1  came  of  a  fighting  stock  on  botli  sides  of  the  house, 
and  it  seemed  to  be  in  the  nature  of  things  that  I  also  should 
desire  to  be  a  soldier,  and  seek  to  win  the  bubble  reputa- 
tion at  the  cannon's  mouth. 

But  it  was  also  in  the  nature  of  things  that  my  father,  a 
man  of  peace  from  his  youth  up,  should  want  me  to  become 
a  calico  printer  and  succeed  to  the  fine  business  he  had 
built  up.  Wherefore  it  came  to  pass  that  when,  in  my  seven- 
teenth year.  I  left  Giggleswick  Grammar-school,  where  I  ac- 
quired a  smattering  of  Latin,  Greek,  arithmetic,  and  the  use 
of  tin-  globes,  ami  attained  to  great  proficiency  in  bird's-nest- 
ing, boxing,  foot-ball,  and  cricket,  I  was  ordered  to  begin  my 
career  "at  the  works."  I  pleaded  hard  with  my  father  to 
let  me  begin  it  in  the  army.  But  he  said  that  was  all  non- 
sense,  1  must  buckle  to  business.  So  to  parody  Gibbon,  I 
sighed  as  a  would-be  soldier  and  obeyed  as  a  son, 

I  made  my  debut  in  the  designing  room,  and  as  I  had  a 
turn  for  sketching,  and  my  father  did  not  "tie  me  to  the 
bell,"  and  I  was  allowed  to  spend  a  good  deal  of  time  out 
of  doors,  riding  after  the  harriers,  running  after  the  o 
hounds,  and  what  not,  I  did  not  find  the  life  altogether  intol- 
erable, but  one  day  when  I  was  busy  in  the  designing- 
room  my  father  chanced  to  come  in,  and  seeing  me  hard  at 
work  laid  his  hand  on  my  head  and  commended  me  for  my 
industry. 

"What  are  you  drawing,  Fritz  ?"  says  he.  looking  over  my 
shoulder.  "AchHimmdl  Soldiers  I  Who  ever  heard  of 
soldi  pattern  for  calico  printing?     This  won't  do  at 

all.    I  must  put  you  to  something  more  practical.    You  shall 
go  inl  and  dye-house.      The  morningin  the 

one,  the  afternoon  in  the  other.-' 

Thi  me.     [  was  getting  tired  of  sitting  on 

•1  and  bendin  t  desk.    The  next  day  I  went  into 

the   cm!,, i  shop   and    made   a    horrid    mess  ol   my  hands  and 


A    LANCASHIRE    LAD  3 

clothes.  But  I  liked  the  dye-house  best,  and  had  rare  sport 
larking  with  the  men,  going  with  them  to  the  croft,  getting 
up  wheelbarrow  races,  and,  when  the  weather  was  warm, 
bathing  in  the  dye-becks. 

But  this  part  of  my  career  was  brought  to  an  abrupt  ter- 
mination by  an  untoward  incident.  One  afternoon  I  prof- 
ited by  my  father's  temporary  absence  to  get  up  a  pitched 
battle  in  one  of  the  crofts  between  the  dye-house  lads  and  a 
contingent  of  tier  boys.  The  weapons  were  wet  pieces,  rolled 
up  and  used  like  flails.  I  led  the  tier  boys,  who  were  con- 
sidered to  be  the  weaker  party.  We  had  a  glorious  fight, 
and  I  think  we  should  have  beaten  the  dyers  if  in  the  very 
thick  of  the  engagement  my  father  had  not  appeared  on  the 
scene  with  a  horsewhip  in  his  hand. 

Then  there  were  wild  cries  of  "  Th1  mayster  !  th'  mays- 
ter!"  and  both  armies  dispersed  in  dire  dismay  and  left  me 
in  sole  possession  of  the  field. 

My  father  was  very  angry,  and  said  that  for  the  future  he 
should  keep  me  in  the  counting-house,  under  his  own  eye, 
and  I  was  too  much  ashamed  of  myself  to  offer  any  vain  ex- 
cuses. 

I  went  into  the  counting-house  accordingly,  and  made  an 
honest  attempt  to  master  the  mysteries  of  book-keeping,  in 
the  which,  however,  I  failed  so  signally  that  as  a  last  resort 
my  father  resolved  to  give  me  a  trial  at  the  "  Manchester  end." 
Though  he  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  I  should  never 
shine  as  a  calico  printer,  he  entertained  a  lingering  hope  that 
I  might  be  turned  into  a  tolerable  if  not  a  brilliant  salesman. 

I  rather  liked  the  new  departure.  A  bedroom  was  provided 
for  me  at  the  warehouse,  but  I  spent  much  of  my  time  at 
home,  and  in  riding,  driving,  and  coaching  on  the  twenty 
miles  of  road  between  Manchester  and  the  works,  or  "  shop," 
as  Lancashire  folk  call  a  calico-printing  factory.  All  the 
same  I  did  some  work.     I  was  introduced  to  the  customers, 


4  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

and  gave  some  of  them  a  dinner  at  the  White  Dear.  I  even 
booked  a  few  orders,  and  my  too  sanguine  parent  informed 
our  chief  salesman  that  he  thought  I  was  on  the  right  track 
at  last 

It  did  not  last  long,  however.  One  morning  when  I  had 
charge  of  the  warehouse,  while  the  salesmen  were  making 
their  rounds,  a  customer  came  in  boiling  with  rage,  and 
complained  that  we  were  sending  him  nothing  but  "jobs." 
Everything  was  wrong,  length,  width,  reed,  picks  ;  the  colors 
were  as  had  as  they  could  be,  and  the  printing  was  worse. 
Considering  this  to  be  an  imputation  on  the  honor  of  the 
firm,  I  told  the  fellow  roundly  that  the  pieces  were  perfect 
and  that  he  was  a  fool,  and  when  he  gave  me  an  imperti- 
nent answer,  kicked  him  down-stairs  and  half-way  across 
ly  Street. 

This  proved  to  be  the  final  incident  of  my  commercial 
career.  My  father  gave  up  for  good  and  all  the  attempt  to 
convert  me  into  a  business  man,  and  was  so  angry  at  my 
latest  escapade  that  he  did  not  speak  to  me  for  a  month. 
I  continued  to  make  occasional  visits  to  the 
i>."  and  one  Thursday  (somebody  being  on  the  sick- 
list )  I  was  asked  to  go  to  Manchester  on  the  following  clay 
fur  the  wage  money. 

1  complied  with  alacrity.  It  was  a  job  that  suited  me, 
and  early  next  morning  King  Corkery  was  put  into  the  gig 
and    I    started   for    Manchester.     The   horse  was  so  called 

he  had  been  bought  at  Preston  hair  from  a  d 
who  i  in'-  of  Corkery  O'Brien,  and  said  he 

dest  ended  from  an  1 1  -ish  king. 

1  ellent  animal.     No  journey  was  too 

long  for  him.  lie  would  do  his  eighl  miles  an  hour,  up 
hill  and  down  dale,  all  day  long,  hut  faster  than  ill  it  hi,'  de- 

■  under  any  circumstam  es,  and  had  never  been 
•  :i  to  gallop  even  when  out  at  grass. 


A    LANCASHIRE    LAD 


As  it  was  a  three -months' pay,  and  the  sum  I  had  to 
bring  back  large,  I  armed  myself  with  a  pair  of  horse-pis- 
tols, which  I  put  in  a  holster  strapped  to  the  right-hand  rail 
of  the  gig. 

I  got  the  money  in  two  large  bags,  securely  padlocked, 
which  were  put  under  the  gig  seat,  and  when  King  Corkery 
had  had  a  good  feed  and  three  hours'  rest  I  set  out  on  my 
homeward  journey.  For  the  greater  part  of  the  way  all 
went  well.  I  gruelled  the  King  at  Bury,  then  drove  stead- 
ily on  through  hilly  Haslingden,  which  was  as  cold  as  it 
generally  is,  past  Baxenden,  and  down  into  Accrington. 

By  this  time  it  was  at  the  edge  of  dark,  but  being  within 
two  miles  of  home,  and  considering  myself  and  my  money 
quite  safe,  I  pulled  Corkery  into  his  slowest  trot,  so  that  I 
might  take  him  home  cool. 

I  had  been  jogging  on  in  this  style  for  three  or  four 
minutes  when  two  men,  who  seemed  to  spring  from  the 
ground,  and  had,  no  doubt,  been  lying  in  the  ditch  bottom, 
caught  my  horse  by  the  head  and  brought  him  to  a  stand. 

Then  one  of  them  came  to  the  gig  side  and  presented  a 
pistol  at  my  head. 

"  We  know  what  you  have  got  there,"  said  he.  "  Out 
with  it,  or  you  are  a  dead  man.     Two  bags." 

"  Very  well,"  I  answered.  "Better  lose  my  money  than 
my  life.     Wait  half  a  minute  while  I  open  the  boot." 

While  speaking  I  stooped,  as  though  to  comply  with  his 
demand,  at  the  same  time  drawing  and  cocking  one  of  my 
pistols.  Then,  quickly  rising,  I  let  fly  at  the  footpad  who 
was  holding  Corkery.  The  horse  made  a  plunge  that  threw 
the  villain  on  his  back,  and,  as  a  second  shot  rang  through 
the  air,  bounded  off  at  full  gallop. 

The  King  went  like  mad.  Stopping  him  was  out  of  the 
question,  even  if  I  had  wanted  to  stop  him.  The  gig 
swayed  so  wildly  from  side  to  side  that  it  was  a  wonder  we 


FOR    HONOR   AND 

did   :  .:e,  or  go  bodily  into  Hynbum  Brook,  which 

red  the  i 

;  horse,  though  terribly  scared,  knew  what  he 

t,  and  five  minutes  after  the  encounter  he  turned 

the  farm-yard  at  my  father's  house,  and  stopped  at  the 

trembling  violently,  and  shaking  his  head  as 

gh  he  had  taken  leave  of  his  sens 

1  could  alight,  old  Wiggin,  the  groom,  came  run- 
ning with  a  lantern. 

••  \\h.n>  up?"    he    exclaimed.      "Owd  Corkery  hasn't 

taking  th'  boggart  "  (bolting)  "sure-ly.     Bithmon  has 

Why.  he  is  aw  of  a  swat,  his  heyd's  covered  wi'  blood — 

and   dom   me   if  th'  top  of  one  of  his  ears  hasn't  getten 

Whativer's  been  to  do  ?" 

At  this  moment  my  father,  who- had  been  on  the  lookout 

for  me,  i  ame  into  the  yard. 

u  safe  back,  Fritz,"  said  he.     "Got  the 
y  all   right?      But,  G   d  bless  me,  what  has  happened 
ry?    I  thought  you  knew  better  than  to  bring 
a  horse  ba<  k  in  th 

"  Why.  he  is  th'  same  hissel."  put    in  Wiggin,  holding  up 
the  lantern.     "  Look  at  him.      Dom  me.  if  there  isn't  blood 
id  a  hoyle  in  his  hat." 

I!        \\<-  you  hurt,  boy  ?"  asked 
my  father,  anxiously. 

••  No   -anyhow,  not  much  -1  didn't  know"  (taking  off  my 

nd  feeling  my  head).     "  It's  only  a  si  rat.  h." 
"  Very  nearly  a  kill,  though.     Look  at   these   holes:  the 
through   your   hat.      Think   God  you  are  no 
i!     .    did  it   happen  and  when?     And   the  wage 
■ 

When  I  had  d  my  father's  questions  he  put  his 

arm  round  I  led  me  tov  irds  the  house. 

hundred  pounds,  dear  i 


A    LANCASHIRE    LAD  7 

said  he.  "That  is  good,  but  better  still  is  it  that  you  have 
shown  courage  and  presence  of  mind.  Make  light  of  it  to 
your  mother.  She  has  been  blaming  me,  and  rightly,  for  let- 
ting you  go  alone  for  the  wage  money.  We  shall  have  to 
make  a  soldier  of  you  after  all.  It  is  in  your  blood.  We 
cannot  compete  with  nature,  and  nature  evidently  designed 
you  for  a  man  of  war.  All  the  same,  I  don't  like  the  idea 
of  buying  you  a  commission.  It  seems  wrong  that  a  man 
should  pay  for  the  privilege  of  serving  his  country.  How- 
ever, your  Uncle  Daniel  is  coming  next  week.  We  will  talk 
it  over  with  him.  I  wonder  who  those  fellows  were — not 
regular  highwaymen,  I  am  sure.  Most  likely  neighbors, 
maybe  our  own  men." 

And  so  it  proved,  or  rather  was  presumed,  for  as,  owing 
to  the  darkness,  I  had  been  unable  to  recognize  my  assail- 
ants, I  could  not  swear  to  them.  Nevertheless  there  was 
every  reason  to  believe — reasons  amounting  to  moral  cer- 
tainty— that  the  delinquents  were  two  of  our  own  block 
printers  temporarily  short  of  a  job,  who,  having  heard  of  my 
errand  to  Manchester,  planned  to  rob  and,  if  need  were,  to 
murder  me.  Both  were  men  of  indifferent  character.  On 
the  day  in  question  their  movements  were  suspicious,  and 
for  a  week  afterwards  one  of  them,  known  as  Jack-off-th'- 
Shelf,  kept  his  bed,  and  when  he  reappeared  carried  his 
arm  in  a  sling,  having,  as  he  said,  lamed  his  shoulder  by 
falling  down-stairs. 

We  all  thought  that  the  bullet  that  hit  King  Corkery's 
ear  had  gone  through  Jack's  arm.  But,  as  there  was  no 
direct  evidence  connecting  him  with  the  offence,  he  saved 
his  neck,  for  had  his  confederate  and  himself  been  pros- 
ecuted to  conviction,  they  would  have  had  to  swing  from  the 
battlements  of  Lancaster  Castle. 


CHAPTER    II 

T  R YI NG    Til 

Mv  Uncle   Daniel   held  a  captain's  commission   (which 
gave  him  the   rank  of  colonel  in  the  army)  in  the   Royal 
Guard  of  France.     He  was  a  tall,  handsome,  brown- 
(1  man.  decorated  with  the  cross  of  St.  Louis,  and  a 
thorough  soldier,    and  for  me,  and   I  think  for  my  father, 
his  visit,  his  conversation,  and  his  stories  were  highly  en- 
joyable.     He  had  next  to  no  English,  hut  as  1  had  picked 
up  from  mv  father  a  fair  knowledge  of  colloquial  German, 
and  from  mv  sisters'  governess  a  smattering  of  French,  I 
understood  him  perfectly.     We  became  fast  friends  from 
the  first  day  of  our  acquaintance  (I  had  not  seen  him  be- 
lle warmly  sympathized  with  my  ambition  to  be- 
a  soldier,  and  met  my  father's  objection  to  buying  a 
commission  in  the  British  army  by  offering  to  obtain  me 
one   without   purchase,   in    his    own    or   some    other    Swiss 
regiment. 

••  But  he  is  English,"  objei  ted  my  father. 
••The  English  son  "f  a  Swiss  father.     Besides,  it  is  quite 
enough  that  he  is  a  Von  Astor,  and  my  nephew.     Since  the 
time  "1    Francis    I.  there    has   always   been    at   least  one  of 
th-  family  in  the  Royal  Guard,  and  as  no  questions  will  he 
itionality,  none  need  he  answ  ered." 
My  fat  1 1  ted  this  pn  II  the  more  readily  that 

idmin  r  ol  the  greal  I  ren<  h  Revolu- 
tion, which  was  just  then  in  the  earlier  stage  of  its  wild  career. 
II<-  believed  that  I  I  urope  would  follow  the  ex- 

ol  a  new 


TRYING    TIMES  9 

era,  an  era  of  peaceful  progress  and  universal  brotherhood, 
and  though  I  might  become  a  soldier  I  should  never  need 
to  fight. 

In  the  light  of  subsequent  events  this  may  seem  rather 
absurd,  but  at  that  time  there  were  few  liberal-minded  men 
who  did  not  cherish  similar  illusions,  and  nobody,  so  far  as 
I  know,  foresaw  that  Europe  was  on  the  eve  of  a  cataclysm 
such  as  had  not  occurred  since  the  downfall  of  the  Roman 
empire. 

For  the  rest  my  father  behaved  very  handsomely,  gave 
me  an  ample  outfit,  and  promised  to  supplement  my  pay  in 
such  sort  as  to  enable  me  to  live  like  an  officer  and  a  gen- 
tleman. But  he  wisely  insisted  that  before  entering  a  regi- 
ment I  should  spend  three  or  four  terms  at  a  military  college, 
in  order  to  better  my  knowledge  of  the  French  tongue,  and 
learn  something  of  the  theory  of  my  future  calling. 

So  I  went  with  my  uncle  to  France,  and  after  eighteen 
months  of  strenuous  study  and  practical  work  at  Angers 
joined  the  Swiss  Guard.  I  could  have  had  an  immediate 
appointment  as  ensign  in  a  line  regiment ;  but  my  uncle 
thought,  and  I  agreed  with  him,  that  I  had  better  go  into 
the  Guards,  though  I  had  to  wait  for  my  commission,  and 
serve  meanwhile  as  a  gentleman  volunteer. 

This  was  in  1791,  and  since  I  left  England  the  conditions 
and  prospects  of  France  had  undergone  a  portentous  change. 
The  revolutionary  flood  was  rising  higher  and  higher,  and 
threatened  ere  long  to  overwhelm  the  throne  and  sweep 
away  the  last  vestiges  of  the  ancient  institutions  of  the 
land. 

Whatever  my  uncle  may  have  thought,  he  had  little  to  say 
about  politics,  but  the  condition  of  the  army  gave  him  great 
concern.  It  was  simply  going  to  pieces.  The  privates 
elected  their  officers  and  then  refused  to  obey  them.  The 
French  Guards  and  several  other  regiments  mutinied.    The 


IO  1  OR    HONOR   AND    Mil 

Swiss  regiment  of  Chateauvieux  broke  into  open  revolt  at 
Nancy,  and  the  mutiny  was  only  suppressed  after  an  action 
in  which  five  hundred  men  were  killed  and  wounded.  The 
ringleaders  were  tried  by  court-martial,  seven  of  them  shot 
and  forty  sent  to  the  galleys.  But  a  few  months  later  the 
prisoners  were  liberated  and  brought  to  Paris,  hailed  by  the 
populace  as-  heroes  and  martyrs,  and  received  with  honor 
by  the  National  Assembly. 

These  things  sorely  grieved  the  officers  and  men  of  the 
-  Guard.  Their  only  consolation  was  that  the  mutineers, 
from  Geneva  and  the  Welcher  Schweiz  (the 
French-speaking  cantons),  were  no  true  Switzers. 

•'  (  rod  alone  knows  what  will  be  the  end  of  it  all."  said  my 
uncle,  sadly.  "  But  our  course  is  clear.  We  have  sworn  to 
defend  the  king  against  his  enemies,  and  defend  him  we 
shall,  even  though  we  have  to  lay  down  our  lives  to  the  last 
man.  Whatever  may  betide,  the  Swiss  Guards  will  be  true 
to  tluir  salt.'' 

This  was  the  sentiment  of  every  man  in  the  regiment,  for 
noble  .  .uhI  privates  as  well  as  officers  were  "gentle- 

men of  the  Swiss  Guard,"  jealous  of  their  honor  and  proud 
of  their  fidelity  to  the  flag  under  which  they  served. 

As  touching  my-  rded  the  outlook  foreshadowed 

by  my  uncle  without  misgiving,  rejoicing  rather  than  other- 
wise at  the  idea  of  a  fight  d  outrance with  the  truculent  mob 
that  held  Paris  in  terror.  But  1  thought  as  a  youth  who  had 
not  yet  fr<  »nted  or  e\  en  seen  death. 

I  also  p  ol   youthful  vanity,  and 

;  n  ud  ol  nrrj  newi  that  I  had  a  portrait  of  my- 

self taken  in  full-dress  uniform  and  sent  to  my  father.  It 
tall,  broad  shouldered  young  fellow  oi  nineteen  or 
twenty,  dressed  in  a  scarlel  cutaway  coat,  with  long  lappets, 
inside  and  folded  back,  blue  collar  and  facings,  with 
and  silver  buttons,  white  waistcoat,  belt, 


TRYING    TIMES  II 

breeches,  and  leggings,  the  last  coming  above  the  knee. 
His  cocked  hat  is  trimmed  with  silver,  his  hair  powdered, 
and  his  arms  are  sword,  musket,^and  bayonet. 

When  I  had  gone  through  a  course  of  drill  at  Courbevoie, 
at  that  time  the  regimental  depot,  I  went  to  Paris  and  took 
up  my  quarters  in  the  barracks  at  the  Tuileries,  where  the 
main  body  was  then  stationed  for  the  protection  of  their 
majesties. 

I  saw  them  often.  Louis  XVI.  was  a  stout,  clumsily  built 
man  with  a  good-natured  yet  weak  face,  and  bore  himself 
so  unlike  a  king  that  I  could  hardly  believe  that  he  came  of 
a  kingly  race.  We  of  the  Swiss  Guard  had  afterwards 
bitter  cause  to  regret  that  France  had  not  been  blessed  with 
a  more  masterful  monarch,  and  ourselves  with  a  more  reso- 
lute chief. 

But  Marie  Antoinette  was  a  right  queenly  woman,  whose 
high  qualities  more  than  atoned  for  her  husband's  defects. 
She  had  a  noble  face  and  an  imposing  presence,  and  a 
manner  so  gracious  and  winning  that  all  who  knew  her 
loved  her.  Her  majesty  took  great  interest  in  her  guards, 
and  knew  all  the  officers  and  many  of  the  privates  by 
name. 

One  day,  when  we  were  mustered  for  parade  in  the  cour 
royale  of  the  palace,  she  beckoned  to  my  uncle  and  spoke 
a  few  words  to  him  ;  whereupon  he  beckoned  to  me,  and, 
the  honor  being  quite  unexpected,  and  myself  unused  to  the 
etiquette  of  courts,  I  stepped  forward  in  some  confusion. 

"  So  this  is  your  nephew,  Captain  d'Astor  ?  Quel  beau 
garcon  /"  (what  a  fine  young  fellow),  said  the  queen.  "  What 
is  his  name  ?" 

"  Frederick,  madame  ;  but  we  generally  call  him  Fritz." 

"Well,  Monsieur  Fritz,  you  bear  an  honored  name,  and 
I  am  sure  you  will  prove  worthy  of  it.  These  are  trying 
times,  and  we  have  many  enemies  and  few  friends." 


i  2  1  OR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

I  was  deeply  moved,  for  Marie  Antoinette's  voice  was 
troubled,  and  her  beautiful  eves  were  filled  with  tears. 

••  I  would  die  for  your  majesty  !"  1  exclaimed  passionately. 

"Ah,  no!  Don't  speak  of  dying.  Rather  live  for  us,  for 
the  king,  my  children  —  and  m 

And  then  she  gave  me  her  hand  to  kiss,  and  I  returned 
to  my  place  in  the  ranks,  proud  of  the  honor  which  had 
been  c  inferred  on  me,  and  treasuring  the  queen's  words  in 
my  heart. 

But  our  fidelity  to  the  kin--  made  us  hated  alike  by  the 
Jacobins  of  the  National  Assembly  and  the  populace  of 
Paris,  and  when  political  excitement  ran  high  the  Guards 
were  either  confined  to  barracks  or  sent  away  for  a  few 
.  lest  their  appearance  in  the  streets  should  give  offence 
to  the  rabble  and  lead  to  trouble  .  ami  it  was  against  regu- 
lations  to  go  beyond  the  precincts  of  the  palace  at  any 
time,  except  in  twos  and  threes.  Men  who  went  out  alone 
were  apt  never  to  return. 

Yet  I  contrived  to  see  a  good  deal  of  Paris,  luckily,  for 
the  time  came  when  a  knowledge  of  its  topography,  and  of 
the  manners  and  customs  of  its  inhabitants,  was  a  matter  of 
life  and  death  to  me. 

ompanied  by  my  comrade  Glutz,  a  volunteer  like  my- 
self, with  whom    1    had  struck  up  a  warm   friendship,  now 
and  then    by  Sergeant    Steinberg,  who  knew  his  way  about 
ell  as  a  rag-picker  or  a    police-officer,   1    walked  the 
Paris  for  J  t  a  time,     rhi  ;i  m  s  were 

generally  made  in  the  evening,  when  we  were  least  likely  to 
:  attention  ;  and  as  we  were  armed,  and,   I    dare   say. 
customers  to    tackle,   we   were  seldom 

lid  not  always  avoid   awkward   ren- 
nd    one    night,  but    for    Sternberg's    coolness    and 

of  mind,  v  I  have  been  forced  into  a  I 


TRYING    TIMES  1 3 

from  which  it  was  hardly  possible  we  could  have  escaped 
with  our  lives.  It  fell  out  that,  as  we  turned  out  of  the  Rue 
Feydeau  into  the  Rue  St.  Marc,  we  encountered  two  or 
three  score  of  sans-culottes,*  who,  though  our  scarlet  coats 
were  hidden  under  our  cloaks,  recognized  us  at  sight,  prob- 
ably by  reason  of  our  white  gaiters  and  military  bearing. 

These  sans-culottes,  a  term  signifying  without  breeches, 
though  not  necessarily  without  trousers,  were  for  the  most 
part  the  dregs  of  the  population,  idlers  and  vagabonds, 
armed  and  paid  by  the  municipality,  and  dressed,  or  half- 
dressed,  as  they  pleased. 

Having  been  strictly  enjoined  by  our  officers  to  behave 
with  circumspection  and  give  no  occasion  for  offence,  we 
wanted  to  go  on  quietly,  but  the  ruffians  barred  the  way, 
brandishing  their  weapons  and  yelling  "  Down  with  the 
Swiss  !     To  the  devil  with  all  aristocrats  !" 

As  it  would  have  been  both  ignoble  and  dangerous  to 
turn  back,  we  kept  our  ground,  and  Glutz,  who  was  as  brave 
as  a  lion,  threw  back  his  cloak  and  laid  his  hand  on  his 
sword. 

"  Quietly,"  whispered  the  sergeant  in  German.  "  Twenty 
to  one  are  long  odds  ;  let  us  see  whether  they  mean  mis- 
chief before  we  try  fighting. 

"You  are  of  the  Swiss  Guard  ?"  said  the  head  ragamuffin, 
coming  forward  as  though  he  were  going  to  eat  us.  He  had 
no  coat,  and  his  shirt-sleeves  were  rolled  up  to  the  elbows  ; 
on  his  head  was  a  Phrygian  cap,  which  might  easily  have 
been  mistaken  for  a  red  nightcap,  and  he  carried  a  firelock 
and  a  sabre. 


*  At  the  beginning  of  the  revolution  the  nobles  stigmatized  their 
opponents  as  sans-culottes,  a  designation  which  so  delighted  "  the  men 
of  the  people  "  that  they  adopted  it  as  a  title  of  honor,  and  it  eventually 
became  the  name  of  a  party,  but  did  not  survive  the  Terror. 


14  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

••  We  are,"  answered  Sternberg,  curtly. 

"  Men  who  would  lire  on  the  people  at  a  tyrant's  bidding 
deserve  to  die.  Would  you  lire  on  the  people  at  Louis 
(  apet's  biddii: 

••  1  know  nothing  of  tyrants,  but  I  know  my  duty,  and  if 
my  commanding  officer  ordered  me  I  should  fire  on  my 
own  father."' 

••(  >,-  me?" 

"Certainly.  For  choice  I  would  much  rather  fire  on  you 
than  my  father,  and  I  am  quite  ready  to  do  it  now"  (point- 
ing to  his  pistols). 

On  this  the  others  laughed  boisterously,  and  after  saying 
we  were  brave  fellows,  who  knew  no  better,  bade  us  go  on. 

"After  you,  gentlemen,  if  you  phase,"  said  the  sergeant, 
dofting  his  hat.  "We  Switzers  never  turn  our  backs  —  on 
our  friends." 

The  sans-culottes  laughed  again  and  marched  off,  while 
we  stood  aside  with  our  backs  to  the  wall. 

■■Why  should  we  wait?"  asked  Glutz,  innocently. 

"Thunder  and  lightning!  Don't  you  see?"  growled 
Sternberg,  in  his  rough  vernacular.  "  If  we  let  them  gel 
behind  us  we  might  be  brained  before  we  could  turn 
round." 


CHAPTER    III 
MOB    LAW 

All  this  time,  that  is  to  say  from  October,  1791,  when 
they  fled  from  Paris  and  were  arrested  at  Varennes,  to  Au- 
gust, 1792,  when  they  were  removed  to  the  Temple,  the  royal 
family  were  under  strict  surveillance  at  the  Tuileries.  The 
king  was  continually  watched  lest  he  should  make  a  second 
attempt  to  quit  the  kingdom  ;  neither  he  nor  the  queen 
could  take  the  air  without  being  followed  by  gendarmes, 
who  never  let  them  out  of  sight,  and  insulted  by  the  un- 
mannerly crowds  who  thronged  the  gardens  of  the  palace, 
and  beset  the  gates  of  the  Cour  Royale. 

The  king's  deposition  was  openly  demanded  both  in  the 
National  Assembly  and  the  streets.  On  the  20th  of  June 
the  mob  broke  into  the  palace,  forced  his  majesty  to  put  on 
a  cap  of  liberty,  assailed  him  with  scurrilous  abuse,  and 
threatened  him  with  death. 

After  this  the  downfall  of  the  monarchy  was  merely  a 
question  of  time. 

In  the  sense  that  during  these  trials  the  king  showed  no 
fear,  he  may  be  said  to  have  behaved  nobly.  On  the  other 
hand,  he  displayed  none  of  the  qualities  by  which  causes 
are  won  and  kingdoms  saved.  His  saintly  submission  to 
cruel  enemies  and  adverse  fate  hastened  his  doom.  The 
royal  martyr  turned  his  cheek  to  the  smiters,  and  they  smote 
again  and  yet  again. 

Meanwhile  the  Swiss  Guards  were  sent  hither  and 
thither,  and  matters  were  so  arranged  by  the  ministers,  or 
by  some  sinister  influence  behind  them,  that  at  the  times 


l6  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

when  our  services  were  most  needed  at  Paris  we  were  gen- 
erally elsewhere. 

In  the  month  of  July  my  company  was  at  Courbevoie, 
which  is  about  a  league  beyond  the  bridge  of  Neuilly. 

Though  it  was  not  easy  to  obtain  leave,  we  went  into  Paris 
twice.  Put  the  declaration  of  war  against  Austria  and 
Prussia,  and  inflammatory  speeches  by  unscrupulous  dema- 
gogues, had  raised  popular  excitement  to  fever  point,  and 
on  the  first  of  these  occasions  Glutz  and  myself — wdio,  owing 
to  the  heat  of  the  weather,  could  not  well  wear  our  cloaks — 
were  so  ill  received  that  we  deemed  it  prudent  to  turn  back 
before  worse  befell  us. 

We  could  not  have  gone  in  mufti  without  civilian  passes, 
which  we  did  not  possess,  nor  wearing  side-arms  and  pis- 
tils, with  which  it  would  have  been  unwise  to  dispense. 

The  second  time  we  managed  better.  Sergeant  Sternberg 
and  Corporal  Waldteufel,  of  our  company,  had  made  friends 
with  some  National  Guards;  and  one  evening, when  the  lat- 
ter were  not  to  be  on  duty,  they  lent  us  their  uniforms — two 
for  Glutz  and  myself,  two  for  Sternberg  and  Waldteufel,  who 
were  to  be  of  the  party. 

We  had  leave  from  6  p.m.  until  midnight,  and  took  a 
ti.it  re  as  far  as  the  Rue  St.  Honore,  and  after  supping  at  a 
i  ifi  in  the  Rue  du  Luxembourg  began  our  walk,  a  walk 
which  was  marked  by  a  startling  adventure — an  adventure 
which,  judged  by  its  consequences,  proved  to  be  one  of  the 
momentous  in<  idents  of  an  eventful  life. 

Though  Prance  just  then  was  like  a  seething  volcano, 
though  she  was  in  the  throes  of  a  revolution,  threatened  by 
civil  war  and  foreign  invasion,  Paris,  her  heart  and  brain, 
and  careless  as  ever.  The  theatres  were  open, 
the  i  afes  full,  the  shops  doing  a  roaring  trade,  the  boule- 
vards and  public  gardens  thronged  with  pleasure-seeking 
ds.    Nobody  either  questioned  or  noticed  us,for  though 


MOB    LAW  17 

the  citizen  soldiers  of  the  National  Guard  were  less  popular 
with  the  masses  than  the  sans-culottes,  they  were  respected. 

We  strolled  on  until  we  reached  a  part  of  the  town  where 
we  met  few  people  of  fashion,  a  quarter  of  narrow  streets, 
poor  dwellings,  and  sombre  walls,  pierced  with  blind  alleys 
and  wide  gateways,  leading  into  warehouses  and  workshops. 

Here  and  there  was  a  lamp  hanging  from  a  rope  which 
stretched  across  the  street,  and  could  be  raised  or  lowered 
by  means  of  pulleys  attached  to  the  walls.  But  when  there 
was  a  moon,  and  on  short  summer  nights,  these  lamps  were 
not  lighted. 

By  this  time  the  sky  had  become  overcast  with  clouds 
and  it  was  almost  dark,  though  we  could  still  see  some  lit- 
tle distance  ahead  and  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  our  way. 

"  Hadn't  we  better  be  making  towards  Courbevoie  ?"  said 
Glutz.  "Time  is  getting  on,  and  it  looks  as  though  it  would 
rain,  and  for  my  part  I  don't  find  these  dark  and  dirty  old 
streets  particularly  amusing.  Donner  Wetter !  It  is  rain- 
ing.    I  felt  a  drop  on  my  face." 

"  And  if  you  did,  what  then  ?  You  are  surely  not  like  a 
French  dandy,  more  afraid  of  a  shower  of  rain  than  a 
shower  of  bullets,"  growled  Sternberg  in  his  deep  guttural. 
"  All  the  same — thunder  and  lightning,  what  is  that  ?" 

"  Shouts  and  the  trampling  of  many  feet,  and  the  gleam 
of  weapons,"  said  I,  peering  into  the  darkness.  "  Coming 
this  way,  too." 

"  Was  ist  los  "  (what  is  up),  "  I  wonder  ?  Anyhow,  we  don't 
want  to  get  mixed  up  in  a  row  that  might  make  us  overstay  our 
leave,  and  you  know  how  straitly  the  Herr  Hauptman,  your 
respected  uncle,  charged  us  to  keep  out  of  scrapes.  So  let 
us  slip  into  this  gateway  and  wait  till  these  shouters  go  by." 

On  this  sage  advice  we  promptly  acted.  The  gateway 
was  in  deep  shade,  and  formed  a  coigne  of  vantage  from 
which  we  could  see  without  beins:  observed. 


CHAPTER    IV 
i.i     Nil.    LANTERN 

The  hubbub  grew  louder,  the  din  more  hideous  —  men 
shouting,  women  screaming,  arms  clashing. 

••  In  the  lantern  with  him!  Down  with  all  aristocrats! 
I  town  with  Madame  Veto!"  (the  queen)."  To  the  lantern  with 
him  !"  were  the  first  articulate  cries  that  reached  our  ears. 

'•  Gott  im  Himmd /  They  are  going  to  hang  somebody," 
muttered  Glutz,  pointing  to  a  lamp  which  was  swaying  in 
the  wind  a  few  yards  from  where  we  stood. 

This  was  likely  enough.  In  those  days  the  populace  of 
Paris  were  in  the  habit  of  utilizing  lamp  ropes  for  the  re- 
moval  of  obnoxious  individuals.  Hanging  without  trial  or 
judgment  was  the  sanction  of  mob  law. 

Meanwhile  the  advance  guard  of  the  procession  had 
reached  the  gateway,  and  a  queer  procession  it  was — di- 
shevelled women,  wicked-looking  lads,  wild- visaged  men, 
and  a  horde  of  sans-culottes,  hustling  along  a  bareheaded 
man  bound  with  cords,  who  streaked  face  and  torn 

clothes   showed   that   he   had   been  engaged    in  a  desperate 
Strug  . 

The  crowd  halted  under  the  lamp. 

the  lantern  with  him!"  shrieked  the  womi  n. 

"  I  le  would  not  say,  '  1  (own  with  Madame  \  etO  !'  "  <  in  e 
him  a  swing  in  the  air!"  shouted  the  men. 

"Down  with  all  aristocrats!  Stick  his  head  at  the  end 
of  a  pike  !"  '  lied  the  boys. 

(  me  of  the  murdi  an  to  lower  the  rope. 

"Cannot  we  rescue  him?"  I  asked  my  companions. 


TO    THE    LANTERN  19 

"  I  am  afraid  not ,  they  are  too  many  and  the  sans-culottes 
are  armed.  Besides,  it  would  be  against  orders,"  said  the 
sergeant,  dubiously. 

"What  are  orders  when  a  man's  life  is  at  stake?" 

"  Let  us  try,  in  God's  name  !"  exclaimed  Glutz,  tightening 
his  belt. 

"  A  rush  would  do  it.  The  miscreants  would  be  too  much 
surprised  to  offer  an  effective  resistance,  and  if  there  is  a 
way  out  at  the  back  of  this  yard,  we  could  escape  before 
they  realized  what  had  happened." 

This  in  German. 

"There  is  a  way  out,"  answered  a  voice  behind  us  in  the 
same  language. 

"  Who  are  you  ?"  I  demanded,  turning  sharply  round. 

"  A  Switzer,  like  yourselves,  and  the  porter  in  charge  of 
this  warehouse.  But  there  is  not  a  moment  to  lose.  If  you 
rescue  that  poor  gentleman  I  will  help  to  shut  the  gate  when 
you  return,  and  show  you  the  way  out  afterwards." 

"  Good  !     What  say  you,  Sternberg  and  Waldteufel  ?" 

"  We  are  with  you,  Herr  von  Astor,"  answered  both  the 
men  in  a  breath,  drawing  their  swords. 

"Good  again  !  Now,  all  together,  and  remember  that  our 
object  is  to  rescue  him  and  get  away,  and  do  no  more  fight- 
ing than  is  absolutely  necessary.     Charge  !" 

And  then  we  made  our  rush.  Two  of  the  sans-culottes 
were  already  adjusting  the  rope  round  their  victim's  neck. 
With  a  mighty  kick,  Waldteufel,  who  was  a  very  giant  of  a 
fellow,  sent  one  of  them  sprawling,  Glutz  clashed  his  sword- 
hilt  in  the  other  fellow's  face,  and  with  a  swift  cut  of  mine 
I  severed  the  prisoner's  bonds. 

"  Back  to  the  gateway !"  I  said,  taking  his  arm  and  hur- 
rying him  along. 

For  a  minute  or  two  the  crowd  stood  stock-still,  as  though 
they  had  been  struck  with  paralysis,  and  then,  realizing  what 


20  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

had  happened,  made  a  dash  at  the  gate,  which  we  were  in 

the  act  of  closing. 

If  they  got  in  our  doom  was  sealed,  and,  taking  aim  be- 
tween the  bars,  I  shot  the  two  leaders  down,  one  after  the 
other.  This  checked  their  followers  for  a  few  seconds,  and 
while  they  hesitated  we  shut  and  bolted  the  gates. 

"  It  will  take  them  ten  minutes  to  break  in,  at  the  very 
least,"  said  the  friendly  Switzer.     "This  way,  gentlemen." 

We  went  off  at  the  pas  gymnastique  (quick  march),  fol- 
lowed by  a  dozen  musket-shots  and  the  curses  of  the  crowd, 
neither  of  which  did  us  any  harm. 

The  warehouse  yard  was  bounded  at  the  bottom  by  a  high 
wall. 

"On  the  other  side  of  that  wall  you  will  be  safe — for  the 
present,"  said  the  porter.  "But  I  advise  you  to  get  out  of 
the  neighborhood  quickly  ,  there  will  be  a  devil  of  a  hue- 
and-cry  after  you.  Push  that  cask  against  the  wall,  then 
climb  to  the  top  and  drop  on  the  other  side." 

"  But  what  will  you  do  ?"  I  asked,  as  Sternberg  gave  the 
rescued  man  a  leg  up. 

"  I  shall  pretend  that  those  ruffians  have  wakened  me  out 
of  a  sound  sleep,  and  ask  what  the  mischief  they  mean  by 
trying  to  break  the  gate  in." 

"  And  your  name  ?  You  have  done  a  brave,  generous 
deed,  and  I  shall  never  forget  you  or  it." 

"  Peter  Bauer,  aus  Qnterwalden.  But  over  with  you, 
Meinherr.  Don't  you  hear  them  hammering  at  the  gate? 
And  1  must  put  this  cask  out  of  sighl  before  the)  gel  in." 

d  tli"  honest  fellow's  hand,  sprang  on  the  co  ik, 
and  the  next  moment  I  wis  among  my  i  ins. 

'•  Are  we  all  here  ?"  I  asked. 
\ll,"  ansv.  :  nberg. 

"  Do  you  kno  w  where  we  a 
'•  \ot  exactly,  but—" 


TO    THE    LANTERN  2  1 

"  I  do,"  put  in  the  ex-prisoner,  "  and  if  you  will  allow  me 
to  lead  the  way — whither  would  you  like  to  go  ?" 

"  Anywhither,  so  long  as  we  throw  that  canaille'1''  (riff-raff) 
"  off  the  scent." 

"  Allans  !     March  !" 

After  a  rapid  walk  of  fifteen  minutes  through  a  net-work 
of  gloomy  streets  and  narrow  lanes  our  guide  slackened  his 
pace  and  turned  to  me. 

"  Now  we  are  safe,"  he  said.  "  I  defy  them  to  overtake 
us.  We  are  close  to  the  Latin  Quarter,  but,  as  a  bareheaded 
man  attracts  attention,  would  you  do  me  the  favor  to  step 
into  that  old-clothes  shop  at  the  corner  and  get  me  a  hat? 
— the  shabbier  the  better." 

I  went  into  the  shop  and  bought  the  gentleman  an  old 
hat. 

"Thank  you,"  he  said  in  English. 

"  God  bless  me  !  Are  you  English  ?"  I  exclaimed  in  my 
native  tongue. 

"  No,  I  spoke  inadvertently.  But  the  fact  is  I  have  just 
returned  from  London,  where  I  fell  into  the  habit  of  saying 
'Thank  you.'  May  I,  without  being  indiscreet,  inquire  to 
whom  I  am  indebted  for  saving  my  life  at  the  very  mo- 
ment I  had  given  myself  up  for  lost  ?  It  was  well  and 
bravely  done." 

"My  name  is  Astor,  and  my  companions  are  Messieurs 
Glutz,  Sternberg,  and  Waldteufel." 

"  These  are  German  names ;  you  speak  German  and 
English  and  yet  wear  the  uniform  of  the  National  Guard." 

"  We  are  of  the  Swiss  Guard,  monsieur,"  I  said,  coldly, 
for  I  was  getting  tired  of  being  asked  everything  and  told 
nothing. 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,  and,  now  I  know  you  to  be  as  loyal 
as  you  are  chivalrous  and  brave,  I  shall  deal  as  frankly  with 
you  as  you  have  dealt  with  me — which  means  that  I  place 


22  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIKE 

in  your  hands  the  life  you  have  so  nobly  saved.  I  used  to 
be  the  Vicomte  de  Lancy  ;  at  present  I  call  myself  by  my  fam- 
ily name  of  Boulanger"  (Baker),  "which  is  plebeian  enough 
for  a  member  of  the  Jacobin  Club.  I  am  a  loyal  servant  of 
the  king  and  queen,  whose  release  from  their  gilded  prison  I 
would  give  my  life  to  effect.  This  night  I  was  in  the  Fau- 
bourg St.  Jacques  on  business — political  business — and 
having  occasion  to  call  at  a  cabaret  frequented  by  work- 
men, I  had  the  ill-luck  to  be  recognized  and  denounced  by 
a  sansculotte  who  had  once  been  my  coachman.  I  suc- 
ceeded in  getting  away,  but  was  followed,  and  after  a  hot 
chase  fell  into  the  toils.  My  captors  offered  to  let  me  go  if 
I  would  shout  '  Down  with  Madame  Veto !'  and  join  in 
singing  the  'Carmagnole.'  But  this  I  could  not  do,  even  to 
obtain  my  liberty.  Then  two  proposals  were  made — one  to 
take  me  to  the  nearest  police-station,  the  other  to  hang  me 
at  the  nearest  lanterne.  The  assassins  carried  the  day,  and 
were  only  prevented  from  carrying  out  their  design  by  your 
courage  and  address,  for  which,  gentlemen  of  the  Swiss 
Guard,  I  tender  you  my  warmest  thanks." 

And  the  Vicomte  de  Lancy  doffed  his  hat  and  made  us  a 
courtly  bow.  He  was  somewhat  below  middle  height  and 
slightly  built,  and,  as  well  as  I  could  make  out  in  the  moon- 
less gloom,  had  regular  features,  a  fair  skin,  and  brown 
curly  hair.  As  touching  his  age,  he  seemed  to  be  about 
thirty,  although  by  daylight  he  would  probably  look  younger. 
Before  we  parted  he  took  me  aside. 

"A  word  in  your  ear,"  he  whispered.  "Though  I  am 
compelled  to  keep  in  the  shade,  under  pain  ol  losing  my 
head  or  taking  an  air  bath,  1  know  something  of  what  is 
going  on.  Not  all  who  bow  the  knee  to  Baal  worship  him 
in  their  hearts.  You  understand.  Well,  1  have  information 
— from  a  sun-  source — that  the  chiefs  of  the  Jacobin  Club 
and  the  commune  of  Paris  have  resolved  to  consummate 


TO    THE    LANTERN  23 

the  destruction  of  the  monarchy,  proclaim  the  republic,  and 
lodge  their  majesties  and  the  royal  family  in  a  fortress  or  a 
dungeon.  The  attempt  is  to  be  made  within  a  month,  per- 
haps sooner.  The  Tuileries  will  be  attacked  by  an  armed 
force,  consisting  of  sans-culottes  and  Marseillais,  under 
the  command  of  Santerre.  Should  the  Swiss  Guard  remain 
stanch  and  fire  on  the  people  they  are  to  be  destroyed  to 
the  last  man — if  the  insurrection  succeeds.  But  if  proper 
measures  be  taken  for  the  defence  of  the  palace,  and  the 
National  Guard,  the  gendarmerie,  and  yourselves  be  true, 
the  insurgents  will  be  defeated  and  the  kingdom  saved." 

"We,  at  least,  shall  be  true  —  on  that  you  may  stake 
your  existence;  and  so,  I  think,  will  the  others,"  I  an- 
swered. 

"  Good  !  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so.  And  now,  dear 
friends,  farewell  —  this  night  has  made  us  friends,  has  it 
not  ?  We  may  meet  again,  but  whether  we  do  or  not  I  shall 
never  forget  that  I  am  your  debtor  for  life." 

And  then  we  shook  hands  and  the  ci-devant  vicomte 
went  his  way  and  we  went  ours,  en  fiacre,  and  passed  the 
sentry  on  guard  at  Courbevoie  barracks  as  the  clocks  went 
twelve. 


CHAPTER   V 
A    FORLORN    HOPE 

On  the  following  morning  I  told  my  uncle,  strictly  as  my 
uncle,  of  our  adventure  of  the  previous  night,  as  also  what 
I  had  heard  from  the  gentleman  who  called  himself  Bou- 
langer.  I  thought  it  right  that  my  uncle  should  be  informed 
of  this,  and  I  could  not  tell  him  a  part  without  telling  him 
the  whole. 

'"It  is  well  this  has  not  come  before  me  officially,  or  1 
should  have  to  take  notice  of  it  in  a  way  you  might  not  find 
agreeable,"  he  said,  with  a  grim  smile.  "  You  should  not 
have  disguised  yourselves  as  National  Guards,  and  you  had 
no  business  to  meddle  with  those  sans-culottes." 

"  Wouldn't  you  meddle,  uncle,  if  you  saw  a  poor  devil 
on  the  point  of  being  hanged,  the  rope  actually  round  his 
neck — wouldn't  you  make  an  attempt  to  save  him  ?" 

"A  man  in  his  individual  capacity  may,  of  course,  if  he 
thinks  fit,  risk  his  life  to  save  that  of  another.  But  you  he- 
long  to  the  regiment,  and  have  no  right  to  compromise  it 
even  to  save  a  dozen  lives;  and  if  you  had  failed  in  your 
attempt  and  fallen  into  the  hands  of  those  cutthroats  the 
regiment  would  have  been  seriously  compromised.  The 
Jacobins  would  have  demanded  your  heads,  possibly  the 
disbanding  of  the  regiment.  They  have  audacity  enough 
for  anything,  those  fellows.     1   hope  the  National  Guards 

you  borrowed  will  keep  their  own  coui 
else  there  may  he  trouble  even  yet." 

■•  I  am  sure  they  will,  for  their  own  sakes,"  quoth  I,  and 
then  by  way  of  changing  the  subject  inquired  what  my  uncle 


A    FORLORN    HOPE  25 

thought  of  the  information  I  had  received  from  M.  Bou- 
langer. 

"  I  dare  say  the  gentleman  is  right,"  was  the  answer.  "  I 
have  heard  similar  rumors  from  other  quarters,  though  none 
so  definite  as  this.  It  is  no  news  that  the  Jacobins  and 
sans-culottes  hate  the  regiment.  They  have  done  that  for 
a  long  time,  and  no  wonder !  We  are  the  only  impediment 
to  the  accomplishment  of  their  designs." 

"  You  forget  the  National  Guard  and  the  gendarmerie." 

"  The  National  Guard  are  merely  a  loosely  disciplined 
local  militia,  commanded  by  office-clerks  and  shopkeepers ; 
they  would  almost  certainly  refuse  to  fire  on  the  people,  as 
it  is  the  fashion  to  call  the  rabble,  even  in  defence  of  the 
Constitution,  and  as  the  old  soldiers  composing  the  gen- 
darmerie have  mutinied  once  they  may  mutiny  again. 
They  elect  their  own  officers,  too,  and  men  who  elect  their 
own  officers  cannot  be  trusted  to  obey  them.  The  outlook 
is  not  encouraging,  either  for  the  king  or  ourselves.  The 
regiment  cannot  survive  the  monarchy.  They  must  stand 
or  fall  together.  ...  If  I  could  have  foreseen  these  things, 
Fritz,  I  should  not  have  let  you  join  the  regiment.  But 
being  a  volunteer  you  can  resign  without  dishonor.  Had 
you  not  better  do  so  ?  and  I  will  ask  your  father,  as  a  favor 
to  me,  to  buy  you  a  commission  in  the  British  army." 

"  What !  leave  you  and  the  regiment  because  danger 
threatens  !     Never  while  I  live  !"   I  exclaimed,  indignantly. 

My  uncle  smiled  approvingly.  The  regiment  was  his 
pride  and  delight.  What  wife  and  children  and  home  are 
to  other  men,  the  regiment  was  to  him.  He  esteemed  its 
honor  and  reputation  more  than  his  own  life,  and  was  as 
loyal  to  it  as  a  faithful  lover  to  an  adored  mistress.  With 
him  it  was  "the  regiment" par  excellence.  Only  occasion- 
ally did  he  speak  of  it  as  the  Swiss  Guard. 

"  I  like  your  spirit,  lad,"  he   said.     "  It  is  that  of  a  true 


2b  FOR    Honor    AND    LIFE 

soldier.     Well,  let  it  be  so,  and  I  am  sure  that  whatever 

happens  you  will  do  your  duty."  And  then  he  added,  low- 
ering his  voice,  "  1  >id  the  king  possess  the  spirit  of  a  drum- 
mer-boy we  could  save  him  even  yet.  If  he  would  summon 
us  to  the  palace,  and  let  us  make  a  clean  sweep  of  the  riff- 
raff who  keep  him  a  prisoner  in  his  own  palace,  and  disperse 
at  the  point  of  the  bayonet  the  first  mob  of  howling  sans- 
culottes that  appears  in  the  Place  du  Carrousel,  we  should 
hear  no  more  of  demands  for  his  dethronement,  and  plots  to 
destroy  the  monarchy  and  set  up  a  republic.  But  it  is  no 
use  talking.  Louis  XVI.  has  not  the  spirit  of  a  brooding 
hen,  much  less  of  a  drummer-boy,  and  as  likely  as  not  will 
yield  without  a  struggle." 

'•  And  then  ?" 

"Thunder  and  lightning  !  The  deluge,  the  disbanding  of 
the  regiment,  the  reign  of  the  rabble  and  the  ruin  of  France." 

This  was  the  first  time  my  uncle  had  spoken  to  me  so 
freely  of  politics,  and  he  straitly  enjoined  me  to  make  no 
mention  of  our  conversation  to  any  of  my  comrades,  an  in- 
junction which  I  need  hardly  say  that  I  carefully  observed. 

The  next  day  he  went  to  the  War  (  >mce,  and  on  his  return 
informed  me,  to  my  great  delight,  that  I  was  to  be  promoted 
to  a  vacant  ensigncy,  of  course  in  the  regiment,  and  that  1 
should  be  gazetted  in  the  course  of  a  few  days. 

Another  piece  of  information  which  he  brought  was  less 
satisfactory.  It  was  contained  in  a  newspaper  called  The 
!  's  Friend,  and  related  to  our  rescue  of  Mr.  Boulanger. 
But  the  account  it  gave  of  the  occurrence  was  so  grotesque- 
ly  exaggerated  that  had  the  affair  been  less  serious  1  should 
have  been  highly  amused.  It  was  headed  --  Rescue  of  a 
Prisoner  by  Aristocrats  and  Prussians  disguised  as  National 

Guards,"  and  told  how  several  patriots,  having  recognized 
in  the  Faubourg  St.  Jacques  the  ci-devant  Vicomte  de 
Lancy,  counter-revolutionist,  returned  emigrant,  and  emis- 


A    FORLORN    HOPE  27 

sary  of  Coburg  and  Pitt,  they  very  properly  arrested  him, 
and  were  conveying  him  to  a  police-station  when  they  were 
suddenly  set  upon  by  a  hundred  men  in  the  uniform  of  the 
National  Guard.  After  a  terrible  conflict,  in  which  at  least 
ten  of  the  aggressors  were  killed  or  badly  wounded,  and 
four  of  the  patriots  sorely  hurt,  the  prisoner  was  rescued 
and  the  aristocrats  got  clean  away.  As  several  of  the  latter 
had  been  heard  to  utter  exclamations  in  German,  there  would 
be  no  doubt  that  some  of  them,  at  least,  were  Prussians. 

It  was  added  that  the  police  were  investigating  the  affair, 
and  would  spare  no  efforts  to  ascertain  by  whose  connivance 
they  had  been  enabled  to  enter  Paris,  and  to  clothe  them- 
selves in  the  uniforms  of  the  National  Guard. 

"  I  am  glad  the  account  is  so  grossly  exaggerated.  It 
will  render  discovery  all  the  more  difficult,  and  I  should  be 
very  sorry  for  the  regiment  to  be  compromised,"  observed 
my  uncle.  "  If  those  men  of  the  National  Guard  whose 
uniforms  you  borrowed  were  to  blab — " 

"  What  would  happen  ?"  I  asked. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  and  Sternberg  and  the  others  would 
happen  to  lose  your  heads,  and  the  king  would  be  requested 
perhaps  required,  to  disband  the  regiment.  It  would  have 
been  better  to  let  the  ex-vicomte  hang." 

Captain  von  Astor  seemed  so  much  put  out  that  I  deemed 
it  inexpedient  to  say  that  I  did  not  agree  with  him.  And 
it  was  well  I  did  not,  for  the  catastrophe  which  he  appre- 
hended very  nearly  came  to  pass.  Either  our  friends  of  the 
National  Guard  were  not  quite  so  discreet  as  they  ought  to 
have  been,  or  by  a  sufficiently  easy  process  of  deduction  the 
police  got  on  the  right  track.  The  story  of  a  hundred 
Prussians  and  aristocrats  rescuing  a  prisoner  and  then  ut- 
terly disappearing  was  too  absurd  for  belief.  They  could 
neither  have  got  into  Paris  nor  have  obtained  a  hundred  uni- 
forms without  the  police  being  informed,  and  the  latter  had 


25  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

doubtless  convinced  themselves  by  independent  inquiry 
th.it  the  number  was  ridiculously  overstated.  Then,  the 
only  troops  in  or  about  Paris  who  spoke  German  were  the 
Swiss  Guard,  and  though  their  uniform  was  very  different 
from  the  uniform  of  the  National  Guard,  they  might  easily 
be  confounded  at  night  by  men  who  were  too  much  sur- 
prised to  observe  accurately. 

Be  that  as  it  may,  we  were  suspected,  and  a  few  days  after 
the  rescue  Major  Bachmann,  the  acting  commander  of  the 
regiment,  was  informed  of  the  fact  and  requested  to  aid  in 
the  discovery  of  the  culprits. 

The  old  soldier  answered  bluntly  that  the  only  aid  he 
could  render  was  to  parade  the  regiment,  and  so  afford  the 
gentlemen  of  the  police  and  their  witnesses  an  opportunity 
of  identifying  the  supposed  offenders. 

The  offer  was  accepted,  and  at  a  time  agreed  upon  half 
a  dozen  gendarmes  and  twice  as  many  villanous-  looking 
sans-culottes,  with  their  sabres  by  their  sides  and  wearing 
Phrygian  caps  and  carmagnoles  (blouses  with  tricolored 
sashes)  appeared  in  the  barrack-yard,  and  the  regiment  was 
paraded  for  their  inspection. 

I  was  on  tenterhooks.  So  were  Glutz,  Sternberg,  and 
Waldteufel.  For,  though  it  was  hardly  conceivable  that  we 
should  l»e  identified,  it  was  clearly  on  the  cards  that  the 
scoundrels  might  pick  one  of  us  out  by  pure  chance,  and  as 
in  that  case  the  picked  man  would  have  to  give  an  account 
of  his  movements  on  the  night  in  question,  detection  would 
be  inc\  itable. 

But  fortune  did  nut  serve  us  so  ill.  The  sansculottes  (who 
were  now  ready  to  swear  that  tl,  is  wore  the  uniform 

of  the  Swiss  <  ruard  I  pit  lied  on  men  who,  as  was  proved  by 
evidence  of  the  non-commissioned  offi<  i  i  on  duty  at  the 
time,  had  answered  to  their  names  at  roll-call  and  never 
left  the  barracks  afterwards. 


A    FORLORN    HOPE  29 

Our  adversaries  retired  discomfited,  yet  unconvinced. 
But  the  story,  as  told  by  the  patriots  and  police,  got-  wind, 
and,  I  fear,  did  much  to  envenom  the  feeling  against  us 
which  bore  such  terrible  fruit  later  on. 

July  passed,  and  August — the  fatal  August  of  1792 — be- 
gan amid  sinister  rumors  and  evil  omens.  The  secret  im- 
parted to  me  by  M.  Boulanger  had  become  a  matter  of 
common  knowledge.  The  preparations  for  the  rising  were 
too  extensive  to  be  concealed,  and  the  Jacobin  leaders 
made  no  attempt  to  conceal  them.  Within  a  few  days  the 
Tuileries  was  to  be  attacked  by  a  force  composed  of  sans- 
culottes, Marseillais,  the  armed  patriots  of  the  sections,  and 
as  many  of  the  National  Guard  as  could  be  persuaded  to 
take  part  in  the  insurrection. 

The  authorities,  on  their  part,  made  as  though  they  meant 
to  defend  the  palace  and  protect  the  king,  but  the  only  force 
at  their  disposal  were  the  Swiss  Guard  and  the  National 
Guard,  whose  fidelity  was  doubtful.  Moreover,  the  govern- 
ment did  all  in  their  power,  short  of  openly  siding  with  the 
insurgents,  to  aid  and  encourage  them.  On. the  4th  of  Au- 
gust we  were  warned  to  hold  ourselves  in  readiness  to  march 
into  Paris,  and  the  same  night  the  regimental  colors  were 
buried  in  the  barrack  cellar  in  order  that,  whatever  hap- 
pened, they  should  not  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  rebels. 

On  the  following  day  the  strength  of  the  regiment  was 
weakened  by  three  hundred  men,  sent  into  Normandy,  as 
was  given  out,  to  assist  in  the  collection  of  taxes.  In  the 
meanwhile  we  had  been  deprived  of  our  field-guns,  and  the 
reiterated  requests  of  the  colonel  for  further  supplies  of 
small-arms  ammunition  were  peremptorily  refused. 

At  ten  o'clock  on  the  night  of  August  8th  we  received 
orders  to  be  at  the  Tuileries  at  three  on  the  following 
morning,  and  two  hours  later  we  set  out  in  full  marching 
order,  but  with  only  thirty  rounds  of  ball  cartridge  per  man. 


30  FOR    HONOR    AND    I  111 

It  was  not  a  gay  march.  Forlorn  hopes  seldom  are  gay, 
and  we  were  the  forlorn  hope  of  the  monarchy.  We  had 
none  of  the  elation  which  men  feel  who  fight  for  hearth 
and  home  and  the  altars  of  their  sires.  We  were  going  to 
fight  against  terrible  odds  for  a  doomed  monarch  and  a 
lost  cause.  Our  animating  motives  were  soldierly  honor 
and  loyalty  to  the  regiment;  only  a  sense  of  duty  held  us 
together.  The  officers  had  been  deprived  of  the  power  to 
enforce  discipline.  The  men  knew  that  they  would  be  re- 
ceived with  open  arms  by  the  patriots  and  rewarded  by 
their  chiefs.  Vet  I  saw  no  sign  of  faltering;  not  a  valid 
man  was  absent  at  roll-call;  not  a  man  fell  out  of  the 
ranks  as  we  marched  through  the  silent  city  over  which 
hovered  the  angel  of  death. 

Few  of  these  sturdy  Suitzers,  worthy  descendants  of  the 
heroes  of  Morgarten  and  Morat,  were  ever  again  to  see 
the  smoke  of  their  villages  or  hear  the  yodling  of  the 
herdsmen  in  their  native  mountains. 


CHAPTER    VI 
FOR    HONOR 

The  chateau  of  the  Tuileries  was  a  great  and  splendid 
palace,  forming,  with  its  dependencies,  an  irregular  quad- 
rangle. The  main  building,  which  stood  at  right  angles 
to  the  river  Seine,  had  two  fronts,  one  looking  towards  the 
gardens,  the  other  towards  the  Place  Carrousel,  now  a  vast 
open  square,  at  that  time  bordered  by  mean  houses  and 
tortuous  streets. 

On  this  side  of  the  palace  were  three  courts,  known  re- 
spectively as  the  royal,  the  princes',  and  the  Swiss,  so  called 
because  it  contained  the  lodgings  of  the  Swiss  Body  Guard. 

The  courts  were  separated  from  each  other  by  high 
walls,  and  from  the  Place  Carrousel  by  a  similar  barrier, 
lodge-gates,  and  guard-houses. 

Beyond  the  gardens  was  the  Place  Louis  XV.,  afterwards 
Revolution  Place,  now  Concord  Place.  Farther  still  were 
the  Champs  Elyse'es  (Elysian  Fields),  a  large  and  beautiful 
park,  planted  with  trees  and  shrubs,  interspersed  with  shady 
walks  and  picturesque  villas  set  in  fair  gardens. 

The  north  side  of  the  gardens  was  lined  with  trees  and 
terraces,  and  between  them  and  the  Rue  St.  Honore  were 
many  buildings,  among  them  the  military  riding-school, 
which  had  been  converted  into  a  chamber  for  the  National 
Assembly. 

These  particulars  are  necessary  for  a  right  comprehen- 
sion of  what  follows. 

The  9th  of  August  was  a  day  of  preparation  for  the 
combat  which   apparently  had   now  become  inevitable,  al- 


32  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

though,  according  to  report,  the  king's  ministers  were  ad- 
vising him  to  renounce  all  idea  of  resistance  and  to  take 
refuge  with  his  family  in  the  National  Assembly. 

But  to  this  course,  which  would  have  been  a  virtual  ab- 
dication, the  queen  was  strongly  opposed,  saying  that,  for 
her  part,  she  would  rather  be  nailed  to  the  walls  than  leave 
the  palace.  The  supreme  command  of  the  defence  was 
vested  in  General  Mandat,  a  brave  and  capable  officer,  and 
if  his  plans  had  not  been  thwarted  by  treachery  and  himself 
basely  betrayed,  the  main  body  of  the  insurgents  would 
never  have  reached  the  precincts  of  the  palace. 

The  regiment,  numbering  some  eight  hundred  men,  under 
the  command  of  Colonel  Maillardoz  and  Majors  Bachmann 
and  Salis,  was  divided  into  detachments,  which  were  placed 
in  the  three  courts  and  the  vestibule  of  the  palace,  'the 
main  body,  that  to  which  I  belonged,  was  posted  in  the 
royal  court. 

During  the  evening  we  were  joined  by  two  thousand 
National  Guards,  who  brought  with  them  five  field-pieces. 
Most  of  these  men,  as  also  a  detachment  of  gendarmes, 
were  stationed  on  the  garden  side  of  the  palace,  and  the 
guns  were  unlimbered  in  the  Cour  Royale. 

At  twelve  o'clock  the  calm  of  a  beautiful  summer  night 
was  broken  by  the  ringing  of  alarm-bells  all  over  Paris, 
succeeded  after  a  short  interval  by  the  beating  of  the  ^hic- 
ra?e  and  the  rappel ;  the  former  calling  the  insurgents  to 
arms,  the  latter  summoning  the  National  Guard  to  defend 
the  king  and  the  Constitution. 

The  insurrection  had  begun,  and  it  remained  to  be  seen 

whether  the  measures  taken  by  General  Mandat  to  prevent 

!  attack  on  the  Tuileries,  l>y  intercepting  the 

rebels  at  tin-  bridges  and  on  the  quays,  would  be  successful. 

Most  of  the  officers  pissed  the  night  in  the  royal  apart- 
ments: the  men  bivouacked  hi  the  courts 


FOR    HONOR 


33 


At  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  General  Mandat  received 
an  order  to  proceed  without  delay  to  the  City-hall,  to  take 
the  final  instructions  of  the  municipality,  who  controlled,  in 
the  last  resort,  the  movements  of  the  National  Guard. 
After  some  hesitation  he  went,  accompanied  by  his  son  and 
an  aide-de-camp.  Within  an  hour  the  aide-de-camp  returned 
in  hot  haste,  and  reported  that  General  Mandat  had  been 
murdered  on  the  steps  of  the  City -hall,  and  that  the  pa- 
triots were  parading  his  head  at  the  end  of  a  pike.  He 
reported  further  that  the  artillery  placed  by  the  general's 
orders  on  the  quays  and  bridges  had  been  withdrawn,  and 
that  the  gunners  had  joined  the  rebels. 

This  ominous  news  was  communicated  only  to  the  offi- 
cers, who,  fearing  that  it  might  discourage  the  regiment 
and  encourage  our  allies  of  the  National  Guard  to  follow 
the  example  of  their  mutinous  comrades,  kept  it  to  them- 
selves. 

At  six  o'clock  the  king,  accompanied  by  some  of  his 
courtiers,  two  of  his  ministers,  and  Colonel  Maillardoz,  came 
into  the  Cour  Royale  to  inspect  the  troops.  He  wore  a 
violet  velvet  coat,  the  Bourbon  badge  of  mourning.  His 
eyes  were  bloodshot  and  the  lids  dark  and  swollen,  as 
though  he  had  passed  a  sleepless  night.  His  countenance 
was  composed,  yet  there  was  an  occasional  nervous  twitch- 
ing about  the  corners  of  his  mouth  which  bespoke  anxiety 
and  apprehension,  and  his  pathetic,  almost  helpless  smile 
as  the  regiment  presented  arms  and  shouted  "  Live  the 
king  !"  went  to  our  hearts. 

But  the  cannoneers  of  the  National  Guard  kept  a  gloomy 
silence,  and  when  his  majesty  passed  to  the  garden  side  of 
the  palace  their  comrades  greeted  him  with  cries  of  "  Live 
the  nation !"  and  as  he  returned  from  his  inspection  he  was 
followed  by  shouts  of  "  Live  the  sans-culottes  !  Down  with 
the  veto  !     Down  with  the  king  !     Down  with  the  queen." 


34  FOR    HONOR    ANT)    LIFE 

These  were  the  troops  who  had  come  to  take  part  with 
us  in  the  defence  of  the  chateau ! 

At  seven  o'clock  the  word  went  round  that  Louis  XVI. 
had  decided,  despite  the  queen's  opposition,  to  withdraw 
w.ith  his  family  to  the  Assembly.  We  could  hardly  believe 
it,  but  when  one  hundred  and  fifty  men  of  the  regiment  and 
three  hundred  grenadiers  of  the  National  Guard  were  told 
off  as  his  escort  doubt  was  no  longer  possible.  The  queen, 
her  two  children,  and  several  ladies  of  the  court  went  with 
him,  also  Baron  von  Erlach,  who  commanded  the  detach- 
ment, Colonel  Maillardoz,  and  the  two  majors. 

When  they  were  gone  Captain  von  Duller,  who  had 
been  left  in  command  of  the  regiment,  now  reduced  to 
six  hundred  and  fifty  men,  invited  my  uncle  and  myself 
and  several  other  officers  to  breakfast  with  him  in  one 
of  the  royal  apartments,  whence,  as  it  overlooked  the  Cour 
Royale  and  the  Place  Carrousel,  we  could  see  what  went  on 
there. 

"  This  beats  everything.  What  next,  I  wonder  ?"  said  my 
uncle,  as  we  took  our  seats  at  the  table. 

Though  the  wit  of  the  remark  was  not  very  obvious,  it  set 
the  table  in  a  roar.  But  it  was  rather  the  occasion  than 
the  remark  that  was  the  cause  of  our  mirth.  We  were 
laughing  at  the  fiasco  which  had  just  taken  place,  and  to 
relieve  our  feelings  after  the  suspense  and  excitement  of 
the  night. 

"Well,"  observed  somebody,  "it  is  rather  droll  to  think 
that  we  came  here  expecting  to  die  in  defence  of  his  sacred 
majesty,  and  make  the  Tuileries  the  Thermopylae  of  the 
monarchy." 

"  His  sacred  majesty  has  run  away,  and  we  shall  live  to 
fight  another  day,"  put  in  one  of  the  lieutenants.  "When 
do  we  return  to  Courbevoie  ?  What  arc  your  orders,  Cap- 
tain von  Durler  ?" 


FOR   HONOR  35 

"To  remain  where  we  are  until  further  orders,  and  not 
let  ourselves  be  forced." 

"  So  !     The  king  is  coming  back,  then  ?" 

"  He  will  never  come  back,"  said  my  uncle,  gravely.  "  His 
departure  is  a  virtual  abdication.  The  king  who  yields  to 
the  menaces  of  the  mob  without  striking  a  blow  for  his 
crown  is  a  king  no  longer.  There  is  nothing  more  for  us 
to  do." 

"Except  to  obey  orders,"  observed  Captain  von  Hurler. 

"  Of  course.  Except  to  obey  orders.  That  goes  without 
saying." 

"  We  shall  have  no  fighting,  then  ?"  I  said  in  a  tone  which 
I  dare  say  savored  somewhat  of  discontent ;  for  though  I 
knew,  theoretically,  that  fighting  is  a  terrible  thing  which  it 
is  always  well  to  avoid  when  you  can  do  so  with  honor,  I 
could  not  help  feeling  a  little  disappointed  that  we  were  not 
to  have  a  brush  with  the  sans-culottes,  whom  I  cordially 
hated  and  would  have  liked  to  see  well  punished. 

"  I  can  guess  your  thoughts,  Fritz,"  returned  my  uncle, 
dryly.  "  Like  all  young  soldiers  you  want  to  be  doing. 
But  what  is  the  use  of  wasting  the  lives  of  our  brave  fel- 
lows in  a  cause  which  does  not  concern  them,  and  for  a 
king  who  has  deserted  them  ?" 

"But  if  the  insurgents  try  to  force  us?" 

"  In  that  case  we  must  resist.  Military  honor  forbids  us 
either  to  run  away  or  lay  down  our  arms.  But  the  insur- 
gents won't  attempt  to  force  us.  Why  should  they  ?  We 
are  not  the  government.  The  king  and  his  ministers  are 
at  the  National  Assembly,  let  them  go  there.     Let  them — " 

Here  my  uncle's  words  were  drowned  by  a  great  uproar — 
shouts,  yells,  words  of  command,  the  beating  of  drums.  We 
all  ran  to  the  balcony  overlooking  the  Carrousel  and  the 
courts.  The  Place  was  thronged  with  a  mob  of  Marseillais, 
sans-culottes,  National  Guard,  men  of  the  people,  armed  and 


36  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

unarmed,  and  some  women.  They  were  demanding  admis- 
sion into  the  Cour  Royale  j  several  had  got  astride  of  the 
wall. 

"  My  orders  are  to  avoid  a  combat,"  said  Captain  von 
Durler.  "I  shall  withdraw  the  regiment  into  the  chateau. 
To  your  posts,  gentlemen  !" 

We  all  followed  him  downstairs,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
we  had  our  men  and  a  platoon  of  faithful  National  Guards 
in  the  palace-  some  were  posted  in  the  vestibule,  others  on 
the  grand  staircase  and  the  stairs  leading  to  the  chapel,  the 
remainder  at  the  windows  of  the  apartments  on  the  first 
floor. 

Meanwhile,  somebody  had  opened  the  gate  of  the  Cour 
Royale.  and  the  rebels  poured  in,  fraternizing  with  the  gun- 
ners of  the  National  Guard.  A  number  of  the  sans-culottes 
carried  their  caps  on  the  point  of  their  pikes  and  bayonets 
in  token  of  amity,  shouting  "  Long  live  the  Swiss  !"  These, 
coming  up  to  the  palace,  entered  the  vestibule  and  called  on 
the  regiment  to  join  them  "in  the  name  of  unity  and  fra- 
ternity." To  prevent  the  ruffians  from  mounting  the  stair- 
case, we  barricaded  it  with  a  beam  of  wood. 

By  this  time  the  advance  guard  of  Santerre's  army,  which 
numbered  some  thirty  thousand  citizen-soldiers,  was  march- 
ing into  the  Carrousel  in  columns  of  companies  and  close 
order,  and  presently  several  of  their  officers  pushed  their 
way  into  the  vestibule,  and  asked  us  to  surrender  to  the 
nation. 

One  of  these  gentlemen,  a  certain  Westermann,  from  El- 

sass,  addressing  the  soldiers  in  German,  exhorted  them  to 

lay  down  their  arms  and  depart   in  peace,  and  accused  the 

rs  of  desiring  to  make  the  regiment  resist  for  the  grat- 

iiii  ation  of  their  own  vanity. 

lit  Sternb  i   him  his  answer. 

"We  are   Swiss,"  said    lie.  "and    Swit/ers   only  lav  down 


FOR    HONOR  37 

their  arms  with  their  lives.  The  proposal  is  an  insult.  If 
you  want  the  regiment  to  march  away  or  disband — and  we 
desire  nothing  better — let  it  be  done  legally.  But  without 
orders  we  shall  neither  quit  our  post  nor  lay  down  our 
arms." 

Captain  von  Durler  had  already  spoken  in  the  same 
sense. 

"We  don't  want  to  hurt  you,"  he  said.  "All  we  want  to 
do  is  to  be  let  alone  and  obey  our  orders,  which  are  to  re- 
main here  and  not  allow  ourselves  to  be  forced.  We  would 
rather  be  your  friends  than  your  enemies  ;  but  if  you  attack 
us  we  shall  resist  to  the  last  extremity." 

Finding  that  we  were  not  to  be  seduced  from  our  duty 
the  patriots  changed  entreaties  for  threats,  saying  that  it 
was  ridiculous  to  suppose  that  a  few  hundred  Switzers  could 
resist  thirty  thousand  patriots  in  arms,  and  that  if  we  did 
not  surrender  they  would  give  us  no  quarter.  They  howled, 
yelled,  cursed,  and  brandished  their  weapons  like  people 
possessed.  An  officer  of  Santerre's  seized  our  leader's  arm, 
and  threatened  him  with  his  sabre. 

"If  he  strikes,  shoot  him,"  said  Captain  von  Durler  to  a 
soldier  near  him,  whereupon  the  officer  lowered  his  sword 
and  loosed  his  hold. 

Another  lunged  at  the  captain  with  his  pike.  Von  Durler 
warded  off  the  stroke  with  his  hand,  for  even  yet  he  had 
not  drawn  his  sword,  fearing,  probably,  that  the  action  would 
be  construed  as  a  signal  for  battle.  But  the  patriots,  ascrib- 
ing our  patience  to  fear,  redoubled  their  insults,  calling  us 
hired  assassins,  satellites  of  the  tyrant,  and  shouting  "Down 
with  the  Swiss !"  Some  dashed  up  to  the  barricade  and 
shook  their  fists  in  our  faces.  At  length,  when  the  uproar 
was  at  its  height  and  it  seemed  as  though  the  howling  ma- 
niacs were  going  to  storm  the  barricade,  one  of  them  dis- 
charged a  pistol. 


38  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

The  effect  was  startling.  Our  men  brought  their  pieces 
to  the  present.  One  of  the  sergeants,  thinking  we  were 
going  to  be  rushed,  shouted  "  Fire  !"  The  muskets  went 
off,  and  with  a  wild  yell  the  sansculottes  bolted  from  the 
building,  tumbling  over  each  other  in  their  eagerness  to  es- 
cape. The  people  in  the  upper  rooms  gave  them  a  volley 
from  the  windows,  and  at  the  same  time  Santerre  opened 
fire  from  the  Carrousel  and  the  Cour  Royale,  both  with  small- 
arms  and  artillery,  and  the  action  became  general. 

One  of  the  first  to  fall  on  our  side  was  the  lieutenant 
who  less  than  an  hour  before  had  said  we  should  live  to 
fight  another  day. 

Seeing  that  unless  the  rebel  artillery  were  silenced  our 
position  would  soon  become  untenable,  Captain  von  Duller 
ordered  a  charge,  and  himself  led  the  way.  The  struggle 
for  the  guns  was  short  and  decisive.  It  was  a  confused 
hurly-burly,  a  fierce  hand-to-hand  fight;  and  so  great  was 
my  excitement,  so  dense  and  thick  the  smoke,  that  I  can  re- 
call little  of  what  happened  to  my  comrades,  and  not  much 
of  what  happened  to  myself. 

A  big  Marseillais  came  near  spitting  me  with  his  pike, 
but  I  got  within  his  guard  and  ran  him  through  the  throat. 
Several  of  our  men  were  killed  among  the  guns.  Waldteu- 
fel  clubbed  his  musket,  and  with  a  single  sweep  of  it  floored 
three  sans-culottes.  We  cleared  the  Cour  Royale  in  two 
minutes,  then  charged  through  the  gate  and  captured  the 
artillery  in  the  Carrousel.  But  as  we  could  not  carry  the 
guns  away,  the  men  broke  several  ramrods  in  pieces  and 
used  them  as  spikes.  And  then,  as  we  were  only  two  hun- 
dred and  the  rebels  numbered  thousands,  we  made  our  way 
..  unpursued  by  the  enemy,  but  suffering  much  from  the 
lin-  of  two  guns  in  a  garden  opposite  the  Swiss  Court,  whi<  h 
ploughed  up  our  ranks  with  grape-shot  and  laid  many  a 
poor  fellow  low. 


FOR   HONOR  39 

At  this  juncture  a  number  of  Marseillais,  who  had  been 
lurking  about  the  palace,  seeing  that  we  were  running  short 
of  ammunition,  issued  from  their  hiding-places  and  attacked 
us  fiercely.  These  we  charged  and  dispersed  at  the  point 
of  the  bayonet,  and  once  more  cleared  the  main  court,  which 
by  this  time  was  covered  with  dead  and  wounded  men,  and 
enveloped  in  so  thick  a  cloud  of  smoke  that  we  could  scarce- 
ly see. 

As  we  re-entered  the  vestibule  of  the  palace,  still  unpur- 
sued,  M.  d'Hervilly  (an  officer  of  the  old  army,  who  was  af- 
terwards killed  at  Quiberon)  came  running  bareheaded  and 
breathless.  "  His  majesty  wants  you  at  the  Assembly,"  he 
gasped.     "  You  are  to  go  thither  immediately." 

"  Good !"  said  Von  Durler,  and  at  once  gave  orders  for 
the  men  to  be  rallied  for  the  retreat,  and  bade  me  run  up- 
stairs, inform  my  uncle,  who  commanded  there,  of  the  new 
order,  and  tell  him  to  descend  into  the  vestibule,  and  form 
his  people  in  column  for  the  march  across  the  garden. 

The  arrangements  for  the  retreat  were  made  completely, 
deliberately,  and  without  confusion.  Since  we  had  driven 
out  the  Marseillais,  not  an  insurgent  had  dared  to  show 
himself  in  the  Cour  Royale.  Two  of  the  captured  guns, 
which  had  not  been  discharged,  were  wheeled  into  the  ves- 
tibule, pointed  towards  the  main  gate,  and  placed  in  charge 
of  two  grenadiers,  who  volunteered  to  remain  behind  and 
use  them  against  any  of  Santerre's  men  who  should  venture 
into  the  court  before  we  were  clear  of  the  building.  It  has 
been  said  since  that  the  "patriots,"  as  they  called  themselves 
(I  call  them  cowardly  cutthroats),  captured  the  Tuileries. 
It  is  not  true.  To  take  possession  of  an  unoccupied  house 
is  not  to  capture  it.  We  had  repulsed  the  attack  at  every 
point,  and  our  sole  reason  for  withdrawal  was  the  king's 
order.  If  Louis  XVI.  had  remained  with  us,  instead  of  going 
to  the  Assembly  and  taking  with  him  three  hundred  good 


40  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

soldiers  (most  of  whom  were  afterwards  basely  murdered), 
the  French  monarchy  had  not  fallen  on  that  fatal  day,  nei- 
ther would  his  majesty  have  had  to  lay  his  head  on  the  block 
six  months  later. 

Captain  von  Durler's  column  marched  first,  and  no  sooner 
were  they  in  the  grounds  than  we  of  the  rear- guard,  who 
were  waiting  a  few  minutes  in  order  that  none  might  be  left 
behind,  heard  a  great  shouting,  followed  on  the  instant  by 
the  rattle  of  musketry. 

"  My  God  !  What  on  earth  can  that  be  ?''  I  cried  in  amaze. 

"  It  is  what  I  feared,"  said  my  uncle.  "  Those  treacher- 
ous scoundrels  in  the  garden  terraces  who  were  to  have 
aided  us  in  the  defence  are  attacking  Von  Durler.  We  have 
been  fighting  for  honor,  men"  (raising  his  voice);  "now  we 
shall  have  to  fight  for  our  lives.     March  !" 


CHAPTER   VII 
FOR   LIFE 

When  we  debouched  into  the  garden,  drums  beating  and 
flags  flying,  the  first  column  was  some  two  or  three  hundred 
yards  ahead  of  us,  and  the  National  Guard  who  lined  the 
terraces  and  buildings  to  our  right  were  mowing  them  down 
with  discharges  of  musketry,  to  which  our  men,  having  ex- 
hausted their  slender  store  of  ammunition,  were  unable  to 
reply.  Nevertheless  they  kept  their  ranks  and  marched  as 
steadily  as  if  they  were  on  parade. 

When  the  rear-guard  emerged  from  the  palace  they  were 
received  in  like  manner.  We  were  also  attacked  from  be- 
hind by  some  of  the  bolder  spirits  of  Santerre's  army,  who 
had  stolen  across  the  Cour  Royale  under  cover  of  the  smoke, 
and  gained  the  gardens  by  the  vestibule  of  the  Tuileries. 

Like  the  first  column,  and  for  the  same  reason,  we  could 
not  reply.  Men  fell  out  every  minute,  and  no  sooner  was  a 
man  down  than  the  wolfish  sans-culottes  finished  him  with 
their  pikes,  stripped  him,  and  cut  off  his  head.  The  line  of 
retreat  was  strewn  with  naked,  decapitated  bodies. 

When  Von  Durler's  column  reached  the  first  fountain  in 
the  great  alley  it  wheeled  to  the  right  en  route  for  the  Na- 
tional Assembly,  to  which  access  was  gained  by  descending 
a  staircase  and  crossing  a  road.  But  the  first  column  was 
still  nearly  three  hundred,  the  second  nearly  two  hundred 
strong,  and  as  it  would  have  taken  a  long  time  for  so  many 
to  defile  through  a  narrow  opening,  and  we  should  be  ex- 
posed all  the  while  to  a  hot  fire,  our  assailants  being  heavily 
massed  in  that  quarter,  we  continued  our  course  down  the 


42  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

great  alley,  with  the  intention  of  passing  into  the  Place  Louis 
XV.,  over  the  swinging  bridge  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden, 
whence  we  might  reach  the  Assembly  by  the  Rue  St.  Ho- 
nore,  or,  if  the  way  thither  were  barred,  return  to  Courbevoie. 

We  were  presently  out  of  the  bullet  storm  from  the  ter- 
races, and  the  sans-culottes  were  too  busily  occupied  with 
despoiling  our  dead  comrades  to  give  us  much  trouble. 

The  brave  fellows  in  the  ranks,  who  had  been  greatly 
discouraged  by  having  to  retreat  and  being  unable  to  fight, 
responded  to  the  "  Vorwarts  /"  of  their  officers  by  giving  a 
cheer  and  breaking  into  a  run.  We  hoped  that  our  ordeal 
was  nearly  over,  but  all  felt  that  the  sooner  we  were  out  of 
the  Tuileries  gardens  the  better. 

We  were  still  going  at  the  double-quick,  and  had  nearly 
reached  the  great  octagon  basin  at  the  end  of  the  great 
alley  when  the  bugler  sounded  a  halt. 

The  men  stopped  and  stood  at  ease. 

'•  The  swinging  bridge  is  occupied  in  force,"  said  Captain 
von  Astor.  "Go  on  and  reconnoitre,  Fritz,  you  and  Ser- 
geant Sternberg.     Keep  as  much  in  cover  as  you  can." 

The  command  was  promptly  obeyed.  We  crept  from  tree 
to  tree  and  from  bush  to  bush,  yet  rapidly  withal,  until  we 
reached  a  point  where,  in  order  to  reconnoitre  effectually, 
we  had  to  show  ourselves  in  the  open."  The  occupiers  of 
the  bridge  and  its  approaches  were  National  Guards,  ranged 
(•?/  bataille.     They  fired  on  us  at  sight. 

This  was  enough.  We  hurried  back  to  the  main  body  and 
reported  what  we  had  seen.  I  estimated  the  strength  of  the 
enemy  in  sight  at  three  to  four  hundred. 

"No  matter  how  many  there  are,"  said  my  uncle.  "We 
must  cither  cut  our  way  through  them,  or  stop  here  to  be 
made  targets  of  first  and  have  our  heads  cut  oft"  afterwards. 
We  are  between  two  fires." 

It  was  true;  the  sans-culottes   in   our  rear  were  creeping 


FOR    LIFE  43 

forward  again  and  beginning  to  shoot  at  us  from  behind  the 
chestnut-trees. 

A  score  or  so  of  our  fellows  had  still  a  cartridge,  some 
two  cartridges,  apiece,  taken  from  the  pouches  of  their  dead 
comrades  and  fallen  foes. 

These  were  placed  in  front,  with  instructions  to  reserve 
their  fire  until  they  could  see  the  whites  of  the  Frenchmen's 
eyes,  and  after  delivering  it  to  charge. 

I  took  this  opportunity  to  tear  from  the  staff  the  flag  I 
had  been  carrying  and  fasten  it  round  my  body. 

Captain  von  Astor's  plan  was  to  draw  the  enemy's  fire, 
which  he  reckoned  they  would  deliver  as  soon  as  we  came 
within  range  ;  then,  after  pausing  an  instant,  to  let  the  first 
line  give  them  a  volley  in  return,  advance  at  the  pas  de 
charge,  and  force  the  bridge  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet  be- 
fore the  rebels  had  time  to  reload  their  pieces. 

The  plan  was  carried  out  to  the  letter.  When  my  uncle 
waved  his  sword  and  cried  "  Vorzvcirts,  tneine  Kinder  /"  (For- 
ward, my  children),  the  men  marched  on  with  their  muskets 
at  the  trail. 

The  National  Guard  opened  fire  as  we  had  expected, 
but  as  we  were  in  open  order  and  the  trees  shielding  us 
somewhat,  it  was  less  destructive  than  it  might  have  been. 
A  minute  afterwards  the  first  line  delivered  their  volley, 
and  then,  with  a  wild  cheer,  closed  up  and  made  for  the 
bridge. 

It  was  our  last  chance,  and  a  far  more  forlorn  hope  than 
the  fight  for  the  guns  in  the  Cour  Royale.  There  were  en- 
emies in  front  of  us,  enemies  behind  us,  enemies  to  the 
right  of  us,  enemies  to  the  left  of  us,  all  well  supplied  with 
ammunition,  while  we  had  none. 

We  went  straight  for  the  bridge,  and  with  mien  so  reso- 
lute that  I  believe  the  people  immediately  opposed  to  us 
would  have  given  way  if  they  could ;  but  those  in  the  rear 


44  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

refusing  to  budge,  the  files  in  front  were  forced  to  fight, 
and  they  fought  as  desperately  as  men  do  when  they  are 
at  bay. 

Acting  on  a  hint  from  one  of  my  comrades,  I  emptied  my 
pistols  before  using  my  sword,  and  was  so  fortunate  as  to 
drop  an  enemy  to  each  shot.  The  next  moment  the  press 
became  so  great  that  I  could  not  draw  my  sword.  While  I 
was  thus  practically  disarmed,  a  little  Frenchman  made  a 
thrust  at  me  with  his  bayonet,  and  though  I  wriggled  to 
one  side,  it  pierced  the  fleshy  part  of  my  thigh.  Then  it 
was  my  turn.  Laying  my  hands  on  his  shoulders  and 
squeezing  his  windpipe  with  my  thumbs  I  pushed  him  down 
under  the  feet  of  the  combatants,  and  there  he  lay,  unable 
to  rise.  Foes  and  friends  were  wedged  together  in  a  seem- 
ingly inextricable  mass,  each  party  trying  to  thrust  the 
other  back  by  main  force,  until  Waldteufel,  who  towered  a 
full  foot  above  the  Frenchmen's  heads,  again  clubbed  his 
musket,  and  after  beating  them  to  the  ground,  walked  on 
over  their  prostrate  bodies. 

For  us  who  followed  him  the  way  was  now  comparatively 
clear,  and  ten  minutes  after  the  first  onset  we  were  in  the 
Place  Louis  XV.,  but  with  terrible  gaps  in  our  ranks.  While 
the  head  of  the  column  was  forcing  the  bridge,  those  in  the 
rear  were  waging  an  unequal  contest  with  the  main  body 
of  the  National  Guard,  who  poured  volley  after  volley  into 
them,  and,  as  no  quarter  was  given,  not  one  of  ours  lived 
to  tell  the  tale. 

But  it  soon  became  apparent  that  we  who  survived  had 
escaped  from  one  danger  only  to  fall  into  another.  At  the 
north  side  of  the  great  square  and  hard  by  the  Rue  Royale 
was  a  body  of  mounted  gendarmes,  whose  duty  it  wa 
guardians  of  the  peace,  to  join  their  strength  to  ours  and 
under  us  all  the  aid  in  their  power.  We  formed  and 
marched  in   their  direction,  for  that  way  lay  the  Rue  St. 


FOR    LIFE  45 

Honore,  which  we  should  have  to  traverse  in  order  to  reach 
the  Assembly. 

At  the  same  time  they  marched  towards  us,  as  we  hoped 
with  friendly  intent,  but  when  the  foremost  of  them  began 
to  unsling  their  carbines  and  shout,  "  Live  the  nation  !"  we 
knew  what  to  expect. 

"  Left  wheel !  Quick  march  !  To  the  statue  !"  ordered 
my  uncle. 

Then  turning  to  me  (the  only  officer  of  the  rear-guard 
besides  himself  left  alive)  he  added  :  "  Those  rascals  are 
going  to  attack  us,  and  as  they  have  horses  and  cartridges 
and  we  neither,  they  have  us  at  their  mercy.  The  pedestal 
of  the  statue  will  afford  us  some  little  protection,  and  from 
that  point  we  must  make  a  dash  for  the  Champs- Elysees, 
and  scatter  among  the  trees.  It  is  our  only  chance.  Are 
your  pistols  loaded  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  Well,  take  my  advice,  and  use  them  only  in  the  last 
extremity — to  save  your  life  or  another's.  What  have  you 
done  with  the  flag  ?" 

"  Torn  it  in  pieces,  and  thrown  the  fragments  away." 

"Good!  The  traitors  may  murder  us,  but  they  will  get 
no  trophies." 

Meanwhile  the  gendarmes  were  nearing  us,  yet  slowly 
withal,  and  some  hung  back,  as  though  they  had  not  quite 
made  up  their  minds  what  to  do.  This  was  fortunate,  for 
had  they  charged  resolutely  we  should  have  been  cut  down 
to  a  man,  being  as  yet  not  half-way  across  the  square. 

But  soon  the  leaders,  throwing  hesitation  aside,  put  their 
horses  to  the  trot,  and  when  they  were  within  range  halted 
and  opened  fire  with  their  carbines,  whereupon  Captain 
von  Astor  bade  our  fellows  break  their  ranks,  race  for  the 
statue,  and  there  rally.  Several  of  them  had  gone  down  at 
the  first  volley,  others  were  killed  or  wounded  by  the  way, 


46  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

and  my  dear  lion-hearted  uncle  fell  at  the  very  foot  of  the 
statue,  shot  through  the  back. 

Kneeling  down  beside  him,  I  raised  his  head  and  in- 
quired whether  he  was  much  hurt. 

"  To  the  death,''  he  murmured,  "to  the  death.  But  I  die 
like  a  soldier,  and  the  regiment — the  regiment  has  done  its 
duty.  Save  yourselves  as  best  you  can — the  Champs-Ely- 
sees — take  my  pistols.  Give  my  love  to  your  father.  Tell 
him  the  regiment,  the — honor  of  the  regiment — " 

These  were  Captain  von  Astor's  last  words.  After  kiss- 
ing him  I  laid  his  head  gently  clown,  and,  taking  the  pistols, 
gave  one  to  Sternberg,  the  other  to  Waldteufel. 

Again  our  assailants  held  back,  either  because  they  were 
moved  by  some  feeling  of  compunction  or  conscience,  or, 
not  being  sure  that  we  were  without  ammunition,  feared  to 
come  to  close  quarters. 

Their  hesitation  might  be  our  salvation.  Not  a  moment 
was  to  be  lost. 

'•  To  the  Champs- Elysees  !"  I  cried,  "  to  the  Champs- 
Elysees  !  Hide  among  the  trees,  and  then  every  man  for 
himself.     Scatter  and  run  for  your  lives." 

The  poor  fellows  needed  no  second  bidding.  They  went 
off  like  a  pack  of  hounds  on  a  burning  scent.  I  waited  for 
a  few  seconds,  making  it  a  point  of  honor  to  be  the  last. 
To  that  momentary  pause  I  probably  owed  my  life. 

When  the  gendarmes  divined  our  object  they  started  in 
hot  pursuit,  some  trying  to  overtake,  others  to  intercept 
the  fugitives,  who  made  the  mistake  of  going  too  straight 
and  keeping  too  much  together,  a  mistake  which  1  avoided 
by  turning  in  another  dire*  tion  and  then  doubling. 

I  had  been  one  of  the  best  sprinters  of  my  time  at  Giggles- 
wick,  and  felt  sure  that  in  a  short  run  1  could  outpace  the 
coarse-bred,  overweighted  horses  ridden  by  the  gendarme]  ie, 
and  1  luckily  got  a  fair  start  before  any  of  them  singled  me 


FOR    LIFE  47 

out  for  pursuit.  But  I  no  sooner  set  my  face  towards  the 
Fields  than  an  officer  of  the  corps,  who  had  emerged  from  the 
Cours  de  la  Reine,  turned  his  horse  in  the  same  direction, 
with  the  evident  intention  of  intercepting  me.  If  he  had  come 
straight  on  I  might  have  evaded  him  by  making  another 
double.  Instead  of  that  he  took  a  line  at  right  angles  to 
mine,  and  if  we  both  went  on  it  was  inevitable  that  we  should 
meet  at  the  apex  of  the  triangle.  We  were  nearing  each  other 
every  second,  and,  to  make  matters  worse,  a  band  of  sans- 
culottes, coming  from  the  gardens,  were  after  me  in  full  cry. 

Turning  back  or  taking  another  course  was  therefore  out 
of  the  question.  What  should  I  do  ?  My  first  idea  was  to 
slacken  my  pace,  let  my  man  come  up,  kill  or  disable  his 
horse  with  a  pistol-shot,  then  run  on  and  gain  the  Fields. 

But  this  was  to  lose  precious  time.  Moreover,,  when  I  had 
disabled  the  horse  I  should  still  have  to  deal  with  the  rider, 
and  he  was  fresh  and  myself  half-blown ;  after  him,  with 
the  several  other  gendarmes  who  had  joined  in  the  chase, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  sans-culottes. 

Then  in  my  extremity  I  bethought  me  of  another  plan,  a 
plan  which  though  bolder  was  no  more  hazardous  and 
promised  better  results.  When  my  adversary  and  myself 
came  within  a  few  yards  of  each  other  I  feigned  distress,  ran 
laboriously,  stumbled  and  reeled  as  though  I  were  quite  ex- 
hausted and  could  do  no  more.  On  this  the  gentleman 
checked  his  horse  and  drew  a  pistol  from  his  holster.  But 
as  he  was  cocking  it  I  whipped  mine  from  my  belt  and  gave 
him  a  shot  point  blank  which  stopped  further  operations  on 
his  part.  Whether  he  was  mortally  or  only  slightly  wounded 
I  never  knew,  for  as  he  lurched  forward,  dropping  his  pistol,  I 
caught  his  bridle  with  one  hand  and  his  leg  with  the  other, 
threw  him  out  of  the  saddle,  and  leaping  into  his  place  went 
off  at  full  gallop,  followed  by  half  a  dozen  gendarmes  and  the 
bullets  and  blasphemies  of  a  hundred  howling  sans-culottes. 


CHAPTER    VIII 
UP   A   TREE 

My  borrowed  mount  carried  me  splendidly.  My  pur- 
suers were  nowhere.  The  distance  between  us  increased  at 
every  stride  of  my  horse,  and  I  felt  confident  that,  barring 
accidents  and  the  unforeseen,  I  should  reach  Courbevoie 
without  further  trouble. 

Unfortunately,  as  it  appeared  at  the  time— fortunately,  as 
it  turned  out — the  unforeseen  happened.  Just  as  I  was 
congratulating  myself  on  my  good-luck  and  the  way  being 
clear,  I  saw,  turning  into  it  from  a  side  road  near  the 
Arc  de  Triomphe  de  l'Etoile,  a  mob  of  at  least  two  or 
three  hundred  people,  among  whom  were  several  horsemen. 
In  those  days  it  was  unsafe  even  for  a  quiet  citizen  to  en- 
counter a  Paris  mob.  They  might  take  exception  to  some- 
thing in  the  cut  of  his  clothes,  or  some  peculiarity  in  his 
bearing  or  his  face,  accuse  him  of  being  an  aristocrat  or  a 
spy,  and  either  hale  him  to  the  nearest  police-station,  or 
hang  him  out  of  hand.  On  that  day  of  riot  and  rebellion 
mobs  were  likely  to  be  more  truculent  and  blood-thirsty 
than  usual,  and  my  appearance  was  decidedly  against  me. 
I  was  hatless,  black  with  powder  and  red  with  blood,  I 
wore  the  hated  uniform  of  the  Swiss  Guard,  and  behind  me 
were  clattering  the  traitorous  gendarmes.  If  there  had 
been  only  a  score  or  so  in  front  of  me  I  might  have  charged 
through  them  and  taken  my  chance,  but  against  two  or 
lime  hundred  I  should  have-  no  chance. 

There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  take  to  the  wood,  and 
evade  my  pursuers  by  dodging  among  the  trees--  if  I  could. 


UP   A   TREE  49 

The  moment  I  had  thus  decided  I  wheeled  my  horse  to 
the  right  and  put  him  at  one  of  the  two  ditches  which  at 
that  time  bounded  the  main  alley  of  the  Champs-Elysees. 
He  did  the  jump  gallantly,  but  as  the  trees  and  bushes  ren- 
dered progress  on  horseback  difficult,  I  dismounted  and 
took  to  my  feet,  first  appropriating  the  unhorsed  officer's 
remaining  pistol. 

But  whither  should  I  betake  myself  ?  The  gendarmes 
and  sans-culottes  were  not  far  off;  the  mob  I  had  seen  near 
the  Arc  de  Triomphe  would  doubtless  join  in  the  chase,  and 
the  hoarse  cries,  mingled  with  occasional  musket-shots  tow- 
ards the  Place  Louis  XV.,  showed  that  some  of  my  com- 
rades had  escaped  into  the  Fields  and  were  coming  in 
my  direction,  pursued  by  their  ruthless  foes.  Moreover,  the 
Fields  were  of  no  great  extent,  every  rod  of  the  ground 
would  be  quested,  every  thicket  explored,  and  to  appear  in 
any  of  the  contiguous  thoroughfares  were  to  court  detection, 
and  detection  meant  death. 

Whither  should  I  betake  myself?  At  any  rate,  it  would 
not  do  to  stand  still.  The  cutthroats  whom  I  had  just 
evaded  were  within  earshot— -I  could  hear  their  shouts  ;  so 
I  went  on,  running  where  running  was  possible,  walking  and 
creeping  where  it  was  not,  dodging  from  bush  to  bush  and 
from  tree  to  tree — in  short,  doing  all  I  could  to  throw  the 
sleuth-hounds  off  the  scent.  But  their  cries,  now  loud,  now 
faint,  then  loud  again,  were  ever  in  my  ears.  They  seemed 
to  come  from  everywhere,  and  I  twisted  and  turned  like  a 
hunted  hare. 

At  length  I  came  to  a  wall,  a  garden  wall.  On  the  other 
side  might  be  safety.  I  would  get  over  and  throw  myself 
on  the  hospitality  of  the  people  who  lived  there,  for  where 
there  was  a  garden  there  must  be  a  house.  But  the  wall 
was  high — ten  feet  at  least — and  smooth,  offering  not  a 
vestige  of  foothold.  Still,  by  a  vigorous  effort  I  might  reach 
4 


50  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

the  top  with  my  hands,  raise  myself  up,  and  drop  on  the 
other  side. 

I  had  come  to  this  conclusion  and  was  about  to  make 
the  attempt  when  I  spied  a  door,  half  hidden  by  a  bush. 

If  the  door  were  open,  or  I  could  push  it  open  ! 

And  then  something  like  a  miracle  happened.  The 
door  was  drawn  a  few  inches  ajar,  and  at  the  opening  ap- 
peared the  startled  face  of  a  young  girl,  an  almost  angelic 
face,  as  it  appeared  to  me  at  that  moment.  But  the  instant 
she  caught  sight  of  me  the  door  went  to  with  a  bang,  and  as 
I  bounded  forward  the  bolts  were  shot  into  their  sockets 
and  the  key  was  turned  in  the  lock. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  let  me  in  !"  I  cried.  "  I  am  a 
hunted  man.  Scores  of  sans-culottes  and  gendarmes  are  at 
my  heels,  the  wood  is  beset,  and  if  I  am  caught  I  shall  be 
torn  to  pieces." 

"O  mon  Dicu!     But  who  are  you?" 

"An  officer  of  the  Swiss  Guard.  Nearly  all  my  comrades 
have  been  murdered  in  the  gardens  and  on  the  Place.  The 
king  has  left  the  Tuileries — " 

The  door  opened  again. 

"Enter!  Quick,  quick,  before  they  come!"  said  the 
young  girl,  excitedly. 

I  needed  no  second  bidding;  the  next  moment  I  was 
inside,  and  the  door  was  once  more  bolted  and  locked. 

The  young  girl  to  whom  I  owed  my  life  (for  escape  without 
her  help  had  been  wellnigh,  if  not  altogether,  impossible  >  had 
a  face  whose  fascination  and  charm  it  were  difficult  to  exag- 
gerate. Her  eyes,  shaded  with  long  lashes,  were  large  and 
dark,  her  hair  and  strongly  marked  eyebrows  black  as  night, 
her  features  as  clearly  cut  as  those  of  a  Greek  cameo,  am!  her 
complexion  was  singularly  delicate  and  pure.  But  what  most 
struck  me  was  her  expression,  so  full  of  sympathy  and  pity, 
yet,  considering  the  circumstances,  strangely  devoid  of  fear. 


UP   A   TREE  51 

"  Oh,  you  are  wounded  !"  she  said,  compassionately. 

In  my  excitement  I  had  almost  forgotten  the  bayonet 
wound  in  my  thigh,  and  now  observed  for  the  first  time  that 
my  white  breeches  were  stained  with  blood.  I  had  also  got 
a  cut  on  my  head  which,  albeit  slight,  had  bled  freely,  and  I 
dare  say  gave  me  a  grewsome  look. 

"Not  seriously,"  I  answered,  "and  when  I  have  rested 
awhile,  and  the  coast  is  clear  and  night  falls,  I  shall  be  quite 
able  to  walk  to  Courbevoie." 

"  But  where  shall  I  hide  you  meanwhile  ?  The  servants 
are  not  to  be  trusted,  and  if  the  miscreants  should  come — 
and  they  are  coming,  don't  you  hear  their  shouts? — if  they 
should  search  the  house  and  find  you  there  it  would  be 
terrible  for  you,  terrible  for  us  all,  and  my  mother  is  an 
invalid." 

"In  that  case  I  will  go  at  once." 

"  No,  no,  a  thousand  times  no !  What  do  you  take  me 
for,  monsieur  ?  Do  you  think  a  soldier's  daughter  could 
refuse  an  asylum  to  a  wounded  officer  who  has  been  fight- 
ing for  the  king  ?  And  some  gentlemen  of  the  Swiss 
Guard  once  rendered  my  Uncle  Claude  a  great  service.  I 
expect  him  here  this  night,  and  he  will  be  able  to  devise 
something.  But  the  question  is  what  to  do  now  ?  Where 
to  put  you  ?" 

"  Is  there  no  out-house  ?" 

"  Would  you  be  safe  in  an  out-house  if  those  wretches 
were  to  make  a  search?  Stay!  I  have  it!  I  have  it!" 
clapping  her  hands  with  delight.  "  Charles  II.  of  England 
escaped  from  his  enemies  by  hiding  in  an  oak-tree ;  why 
should  not  you  escape  from  yours  by  hiding  in  that  chestnut- 
tree  ?  From  that  bench  you  can  easily  reach  the  lower 
branches  and  swing  yourself  up." 

"  The  very  thing  !"  I  exclaimed.  "  How  shall  I  thank 
you  enough,  mademoiselle?" 


52  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

"  By  mounting  quickly.  Don't  you  hear  the  shouts  ?  In 
a  few  minutes  your  pursuers  will  be  here.  When  they  are 
gone  I  shall  let  you  know.     Go,  go,  not  another  word  !" 

Yet  another  word  I  spoke,  advising  that,  in  the  event  of 
the  gendarmes  demanding  admission,  they  should  be  ad- 
mitted without  either  delay  or  demur,  and  invited  to  satisfy 
themselves  by  ocular  demonstration  that  their  suspicions 
were  baseless. 

And  then  I  climbed  the  tree,  which  was  close  at  hand,  a 
splendid  chestnut  laden  with  leaves,  where  I  was  so  well 
hidden  as  to  be  invisible  to  the  sharpest  of  eyes.  Never- 
theless as  red  is  a  conspicuous  color,  I  took  the  precaution 
to  doff  my  scarlet  coat  and  roll  it  up  with  the  lining  out- 
ward. 

After  effacing  with  her  pocket-handkerchief  the  marks  left 
by  my  feet  on  the  bench,  apiece  of  thoughtfulness  which  I 
greatly  admired,  the  young  lady  disappeared. 

I  had  found  a  hiding-place  none  too  soon.  The  gen- 
darmes and,  as  I  gathered  from  the  noise  they  made,  a  con- 
tingent of  sans-culottes,  were  so  near  that  I  could  hear  their 
exclamations  and  distinguish  their  words. 

"  He  cannot  be  far  off,"  said  one. 

"  It  is  not  five  minutes  since  I  saw  him,"  observed  an- 
other. 

"  It  is  impossible  for  him  to  escape  ;  this  side  of  the 
Champs- Elysees  is  surrounded,  and  if  he  shows  himself 
outside  he  will  be  knocked  on  the  head,"  added  a  third. 

"A  thousand  thunders!  Behold  a  garden  wall !  Can  he 
have  got  over  it  ?" 

"  Out  of  the  question  ;  it  is  too  high." 

"  But  here  is  a  door,  and  sacrk  nom  de  Dieu,  here  is  a  foot- 
mark, his  footmark!" 

"  Whose  house  is  it  ?  Run  to  the  front  door — this  is 
locked  —  some  of  you,   and   demand    admission,   while   we 


UP   A   TREE  53 

watch  here ;  surround  the  garden  and  guard  every  exit. 
We  will  have  him  yet,  the  cursed  Swiss!  They  say  he  killed 
twenty  patriots  with  his  own  hand,  and  I  am  afraid  he  has 
done  for  our  brigadier." 

And  then  the  talk  ceased  or  became  inaudible,  but  pres- 
ently there  was  an  irruption  into  the  garden  from  the  front. 
Gendarmes  and  sans-culottes,  of  whom  I  caught  occasional 
glimpses,  were  all  over  the  place,  searching  every  thicket 
and  looking  behind  every  shrub  and  bush. 

Though  I  knew  I  was  invisible,  I  could  not  help  feeling 
nervous,  and  when  they  passed  under  the  chestnut-tree  I 
drew  myself  into  as  small  a  compass  as  possible  and  kept 
as  still  as  a  mouse,  for  the  slightest  movement  would  have 
betrayed  me. 

When  the  miscreants  failed  to  find  me  they  vented  their 
disappointment  in  curses  both  loud  and  deep. 

"  He  must  be  here.  Where  can  he  be  else  ?"  said  one 
who  appeared  to  be  in  authority. 

"Hiding  outside,  perhaps.  Anyhow,  I'll  take  my  oath 
he  isn't  here." 

"We  have  sought  everywhere,  and  questioned  the  ser- 
vants; and  it  is  easy  to  see  from  their  manner  that  they 
have  seen  naught  of  him." 

"  But  how  about  the  footmarks  ?" 

"  How  do  you  know  they  are  the  footmarks  of  this  Swiss  ? 
And  footmarks  outside  do  not  prove  either  that  he  got 
over  the  wall  or  came  in  at  the  door.  No,  my  friend,  we 
are  on  a  wrong  scent,  and  the  sooner  we  acknowledge  the 
fact  and  act  on  it  the  better." 

After  a  brief  conference,  held  under  the  chestnut-tree, 
it  was  decided  to  continue  the  quest  in  the  Champs- Ely- 
sees  and  post  a  sentry  at  every  corner  of  the  garden,  with 
orders  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout,  and  if  I  appeared  to  shoot 
me  at  sight. 


54  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

A  pleasant  prospect  this!  It  was  evident  that  I  could 
not  get  away  before  dark,  which  meant  that  I  should  have 
to  remain  where  I  was  for  at  least  eight  or  nine  hours.  But 
that  was  better  than  being  shot  at  sight  or  hanged  ci  la 
lanteme,  and  when  I  thought  how  many  of  my  poor  com- 
rades had  been  maimed  or  killed  on  that  fatal  day  I 
esteemed  myself  highly  fortunate,  and  with  all  my  heart 
thanked  God  for  his  goodness  in  delivering  me  from  so 
many  dangers. 

And  then,  so  great  was  my  exhaustion,  so  soothing  the 
gentle  breeze  which  murmured  among  the  leaves,  that  de- 
spite my  constrained  position,  the  smarting  of  my  wounds, 
and  the  bitterness  of  my  thoughts,  I  fell  into  a  doze,  from 
which  I  was  awakened  by  nearly  falling  from  my  perch. 
At  the  same  time  I  heard  a  light  footstep  in  the  garden, 
and,  looking  down,  spied  my  hostess  coming  leisurely  tow- 
ards the  tree.  In  one  hand  she  carried  what  appeared  to 
be  a  large  basket,  in  the  other,  a  slender  cane.  Now  and 
then  she  stopped  for  a  moment  and  looked  round,  and 
after,  as  might  appear,  having  satisfied  herself  that  there 
were  no  interlopers  in  the  garden  or  peeping  over  the  wall, 
she  sat  down  on  the  bench,  and  taking  a  piece  of  work  out 
of  the  basket,  began  to  knit  or  embroider — in  seeming  for- 
getfulness  that  the  fugitive  whom  she  had  saved  was  astride 
a  branch  a  few  feet  above  her  head. 


CHAPTER    IX 
ANGEL  I QU  E 

After  the  knitting  had  gone  on  for  a  few  minutes,  my 
fair  neighbor  raised  her  head  and  whispered  a  word  which 
I  failed  to  hear.  Then  she  raised  her  voice  a  little,  and 
by  listening  intently  I  made  out  that  the  word  was  "  Mon- 
sieur." 

"Yes,  mademoiselle,"  I  answered,  descending  a  branch 
or  two,  and  also  whispering. 

"  Speak  low,  please.  I  have  sharp  ears.  They  are  gone, 
those  wicked  people.  They  were  not  so  bad  as  they  might 
have  been  ;  they  contented  themselves  with  searching  the 
garden  and  the  lower  rooms  ;  but  four  are  on  "guard  out- 
side, one  at  each  corner  of  the  garden,  so  we  must  be  very 
cautious.     Are  you  listening,  monsieur  ?" 

"  Most  attentively,  mademoiselle." 

"  Good  !  Now  listen  still  more  attentively.  At  the  end 
of  this  cane,  which  I  am  going  to  give  you,  is  a  cord.  You 
must  take  one  end  of  it  in  your  hand  and  pull  up  something 
which  I  shall  fasten  to  the  other  end.  Now  !  Have  you 
got  it?" 

"Yes." 

"Good  again  !  Now,  when  I  say  'Pull,'  pull,  but  gently 
withal,  for  I  am  fastening  to  the  cord  a  bag  which  contains 
half  a  roast  fowl,  half  a  loaf,  and  half  a  bottle  of  Bor- 
deaux." 

"  O  mademoiselle  !  I  thank  you  a  thousand  times.  How 
can  I  repay?" 

"  By  pulling  up  the  bag.     Now  !     Pull !" 


56  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

I  pulled  accordingly,  and  set  to  work  on  the  contents  of 

the  bag  with  the  appetite  of  a  hungry  man,  for  I  had  eaten 

hardly  any  breakfast,  the  exertions  and  excitement  of  the 

last  few  hours  had  tired  me  out,  and  I  was  faint  with  fa- 

and  loss  of  blood. 

In  little  more  than  ten  minutes  the  wine,  the  bread,  and 
the  roast  fowl  were  gone,  and  with  them  went  my  weakness 
and  fatigue.     I  felt  like  another  man. 

"  Have  you  had  enough  ?"  asked  the  young  lady  as  I  low- 
ered the  bag,  into  which  I  had  put  the  empty  bottle  and 
the  fragments  of  my  repast. 

"  Quite,  I  thank  you.  And  now  won't  you  tell  me  to 
whom  I  am  indebted  for  all  this  kindness  ?" 

"My  name  is  Marie  Ang&lique  de  la  Tour;  but  here  in 
Paris  we  call  ourselves  only  Tour,  my  mother  and  I.  And 
you,  monsieur?" 

"  My  name  is  Von  Astor,  or  D'Astor,  as  we  were  called  in 
the  regiment,  my  poor  uncle  and  I.  But  I  think  we  had 
better  dispense  with  the  particle  for  the  present." 

'•  You  are  right.  An  aristocratic  name  is  dangerous  in 
these  times.  You  spoke  of  your  poor  uncle — I  hope  no 
harm  has  befallen  him." 

"  My  uncle,  Captain  von  Astor,  of  the  regiment,  was  killed 
little  more  than  an  hour  ago,  at  the  foot  of  the  statue  in 
the  Place  Louis  XV." 

"O  mon  Dicu,  how  terrible!  And  my  poor  father,  he 
also  was  killed,  though  he  had  fought  for  France  in  seven 
campaigns  and  received  as  many  wounds.  Put  your  uncle 
died  for  the  king  ;  it  was  a  noble  death." 

'•  His  death  did  not  serve  the  king,  mademoiselle.  The 
king  had  already  surrendered  to  the  enemy.  My  uncle 
died  for  honor,  and,  as  you  say,  it  was  a  noble  death.*' 

'•  May  God  keep  his  soul  in  peace!  It  is  better  to  die 
nobly  than  to  live   ignobly.     But    I   must   leave  you,  mon- 


ANGELIQUE  57 

sieur.  It  were  imprudent  to  remain  longer.  I  am  afraid 
you  will  have  to  stay  where  you  are  until  nightfall.  I  shall 
make  a  confidant  of  Paul  Tremblay,  my  father's  old  soldier- 
servant.  He  is  as  good  as  gold,  and  quite  trustworthy.  I 
shall  send  him  to  you  after  a  while,  perhaps  you  and  he  will 
be  able  to  hit  upon  a  plan.  And,  as  I  said  before,  I  expect 
a  visit  from  my  Uncle  Claude.  He,  too,  is  in  danger,  and  I 
am  always  in  fear  for  him.  But  he  is  very  clever  and  re- 
sourceful, and  you  may  count  confidently  on  my  help.  Au 
revoir,  monsieur." 

"Au  revoir,  mademoiselle,"  I  returned,  and  then  she 
gathered  up  her  work,  put  the  bag  into  her  basket,  and 
walked  slowly  and  with  pensive  mien  towards  the  house, 
and  I  was  left  once  more  to  the  companionship  of  my 
thoughts. 

I  had  not  been  in  bed  for  two  nights,  and  fearing  that  I 
might  again  be  overcome  with  sleep  and,  peradventure,  fall 
out  of  the  tree,  I  buckled  my  sword-belt  loosely  round  a 
stout  branch  and  passed  my  arm  through  the  loop. 

It  was  a  wise  precaution,  for  despite  my  efforts  to  keep 
awake  I  did  fall  asleep,  dreamed  that  I  was  being  guillo- 
tined, and  awoke  with  my  neck  bending  over  a  bough  and 
my  legs  dangling  in  the  air.  For  a  few  seconds  I  could  not 
recall  where  I  was  nor  what  had  happened. 

A  man  was  under  the  tree,  plying  a  broom.  As  I  opened 
my  eyes  he  looked  up  and  said  in  a  low,  gruff  voice  : 

"  Monsieur  Astor,  are  you  still  there  ?" 

Evidently  the  old  soldier-servant  of  whom  Mademoiselle 
de  la  Tour  had  spoken.  Only  from  her  could  he  have 
learned  my  name. 

"  I  am  still  here,"  I  answered. 

"  I  called  several  times,  and  as  you  did  not  answer  I  be- 
gan to  fear  you  were  gone." 

"  I  was  asleep." 


58  FOR    HONOR   AND   LIFE 

"Asleep,  when  half  Paris  is  thirsting  for  your  blood  !  I 
admire  your  courage,  monsieur." 

"  Half  Paris  thirsting  for  my  blood  !  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

'■  Yours,  and  the  blood  of  every  Swiss  guardsman  in  the 
city.  They  are  being  hunted  like  mad  clogs,  the  few  who 
survive.  The  sans-culottes  have  even  killed  several  Swiss 
porters.  If  one  has  an  enemy  whom  he  wishes  to  destroy 
it  is  enough  to  denounce  him  as  a  Swiss." 

'•  That  is  the  talk,  I  suppose  ?" 

"I  am  afraid  it  is  the  truth,  monsieur." 

I  did  not  think  so.  I  thought  Tremblay  was  exaggerat- 
ing, but  as  nothing  was  to  be  gained  by  arguing  the  point  I 
changed  the  subject  by  inquiring  whether  the  sentinels  had 
been  withdrawn. 

"  I  don't  know  about  being  withdrawn — those  fellows  are 
under  no  sort  of  discipline.     But  they  are  gone." 

"  The  coast  is  clear,  then  ?" 

"  I  suppose  so,"  dubiously.  "  All  the  same,  it  would  not 
be  safe  for  monsieur  to  leave  before  dark,  and  even  then  it 
would  be  as  much  as  monsieur's  life  is  worth  to  wear  his 
uniform." 

"  Could  you  lend  or  sell  me  some  of  your  clothes?" 

"  With  pleasure.  It  was  what  I  was  going  to  propose — a 
blouse  and  z.pantalon.n 

"  And  an  old  hat." 

"  Perfectly,  and  an  old  hat.  And  if  you  will  descend 
from  the  tree  you  can  go  into  my  tool-house.  It  is  not 
precisely  a  drawing-room,  but  I  think  you  will  find  it  better 
than  a  perch.  On  the  other  side,  please,  and  then  nobody 
can  see  you  from  the  house." 

I  climbed  down  with  some  difficulty,  for  my  legs  were 
stiff  and  my  wound  was  painful. 

"  Slip  behind  the  laurels,  and  then  straight  on,"  continued 
Tremblay. 


ANGELIQUE  59 

I  limped  in  the  direction  indicated,  followed  by  the 
friendly  gardener. 

The  tool-house,  though,  as  he  had  observed,  not  exactly 
a  drawing  -  room,  was  a  vast  improvement  on  the  tree. 
There  was  a  rough  table,  also  a  damaged  rustic  chair, 
which,  with  the  help  of  an  empty  sack  that  lay  on  the  floor, 
could  be  converted  into  a  comfortable  couch. 

It  was  a  place  one  might  pass  the  night  in. 

From  a  cupboard  in  which  he  kept  his  seeds  Tremblay 
produced  a  blouse  and  a  pair  of  trousers. 

"  Is  there  anything  else  I  can  get  for  you  ?"  he  asked. 
"  I  will  bring  you  a  hat  presently." 

"  You  are  very  good.  Yes,  I  should  like  a  pail  of  water, 
a  towel,  soap,  and,  if  possible,  something  to  bind  up  this 
wound  in  my  thigh.  I  don't  want  it  to  begin  bleeding 
again." 

"  I  will  ask  mademoiselle  The  maids  would  wonder 
what  on  earth  I  wanted  with  a  towel  and  soap,  and  might 
ask  questions  which  I  should  find  it  hard  to  answer." 

Whereupon  the  old  soldier  hurried  off,  and  after  a  short 
absence  returned  with  soap,  towel,  bandages,  lint,  plaster,  a 
pair  of  scissors,  and  a  hat. 

"  Mademoiselle  thinks  of  everything,"  he  said,  admiring- 
ly. "  My  faith,  she  has  got  an  old  head  on  young  shoulders, 
and  not  without  need,  for  she  has  all  the  care." 

"  But  her  mother  ?" 

"  Her  mother  is  one  of  her  cares,  monsieur.  Mademoi- 
selle desired  me  to  ask  whether  you  wanted  anything  more." 

"  Nothing,  thank  you,  only  when  you  see  her  say  how 
grateful  I  am  for  her  kindness." 

And  then  I  had  a  good  wash,  and  with  Tremblay?s  help 
bound  up  my  wounded  thigh  and  plastered  the  cut  on  my 
head.  When  I  had  donned  his  coat  and  trousers  he  took 
up  a  part  of  the  floor  and  placed  underneath  it  my  sword 


60  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

and  outer  garments.  He  would  also  have  concealed  my  pis- 
tols, but  as  they  could  be  hidden  under  my  blouse  and 
might  be  useful,  I  preferred  to  keep  them. 

Before  he  went  away  Tremblay  advised  me  on  no  account 
to  quit  my  refuge.  The  visit  of  the  gendarmes  had  made 
the  servants  frantic  with  fear,  and  if  they  caught  a  glimpse 
of  me  they  would  leave  the  house  at  once  and,  as  likely  as 
not,  denounce  us  to  the  police.  At  any  rate,  they  would 
make  no  secret  of  what  they  had  seen. 

"And  then,"  added  Tremblay,  "we  should  all  be  arrested 
— or  worse." 

I  told  him  that  he  need  be  under  no  apprehension,  that  I 
should  not  stir  until  dark,  nor  even  then  unless  I  had  his 
assurance  that  I  could  leave  unobserved. 

When  he  was  gone  I  arranged  the  sack  as  a  cushion  and 
made  myself  comfortable.  The  repast,  the  sleep,  the  wash, 
and  the  dressing  of  my  wounds  had  made  me  feel  like 
another  man.  But  mentally  I  was  ill  at  ease.  The  events 
of  the  day  weighed  heavily  on  my  mind,  and  I  grieved 
sorely  for  my  lost  comrades  and  my  murdered  uncle.  I 
feared  that  I  was  the  sole  survivor  of  the  rear  column,  and 
with  good  reason.  But  for  the  horse  and  the  open  door 
and  the  kindness  of  Mademoiselle  de  la  Tour  I  could  not 
have  escaped.  Was  it  likely  that  any  of  the  others  had 
been  equally  fortunate  ? 

And  Von  Hurler's  people  !  Had  any  of  them  succeeded 
in  reaching  the  Assembly?  And  then  how  fared  the  king 
and  queen  and  the  column  commanded  by  Von  Sal  is?  Had 
the  royal  family  and  their  escort  been  destroyed  by  the 
treachery  of  the  National  Guard  and  the  fury  of  the  popu- 
lace ?  The  thought  made  me  shudder,  yet  the  possibility 
was  undeniable. 

But  the  most  pressing  question  at  the  moment — for  me — 
was  whither  I  should  go  when  I  left  my  present  refuge.     I 


ANGELIQUE  6 1 

could  not  risk  compromising  the  sweet  girl  who  had  helped 
me  in  my  need  by  staying  a  moment  longer  than  was  needful. 
Among  the  few  people  whom  I  knew  in  Paris  were  none 
whom  I  could  ask  to  take  me  in  at  the  peril  of  their  lives. 

After  long  thought,  and  pondering  various  projects,  I 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  only  one  was  feasible— to  re- 
turn to  Courbevoie.  True,  I  had  no  papers,  but  disguised 
as  a  workman  I  might  pass  the  barrier  unquestioned,  and 
once  outside  Paris  I  hoped  I  should  be  safe. 

We  had  left  at  the  barracks  a  corporal's  guard  and  three 
or  four  invalids,  among  the  latter  Glutz,  who  was  laid  up 
with  a  badly  sprained  ankle  and  had  been  compelled  to 
stay  behind,  greatly  to  his  disappointment.  But  it  was  well 
for  him  that  he  had  stayed  behind  ,  his  presence  could  have 
made  no  difference  in  the  result,  and  he  would  almost  cer- 
tainly have  lost  his  life. 

Yes,  I  would  try  to  get  to  Courbevoie.  I  had  two  hun- 
dred louis  d'or  there,  which  would  be  more  than  enough  to 
enable  Glutz  and  myself  to  make  our  way  to  England,  even 
though  I  had  to  buy  horses  and  a  carriage  and  charter  a 
boat  for  the  passage  of  the  Channel. 

This  I  planned  and  much  else  which  it  is  not  necessary 
to  relate,  and  I  was  still  deep  in  thought  when  I  was 
roused  from  my  reverie  by  the  sound  of  approaching  foot- 
steps. I  had  sharp  ears  in  those  days  and  could  identify  a 
footfall  as  unerringly  as  I  could  recognize  a  voice,  and  these 
were  neither  the  footsteps  of  Mile,  de  la  Tour  nor  of  Paul 
Tremblay.  They  were  too  heavy  to  be  hers,  too  light  to 
be  his.  Yet  only  he  and  she  knew  where  I  was.  It  might 
be  one  of  the  maids — or  an  enemy.  I  could  not  fasten  the 
door,  it  possessed  neither  bolt  nor  bar ,  so  by  way  of  being 
prepared  for  whatever  might  befall,  I  cocked  my  pistols, 
laid  them  ready  to  hand,  armed  myself  with  a  spade,  set 
my  back  against  the  wall,  and  awaited  the  issue. 


CHAPTER    X 
A    SURPRISE 

When  the  door  of  the  tool-house  opened,  and  there  ap- 
peared on  the  threshold  a  soberly  attired,  slightly  built  gen- 
tleman, with  black  whiskers,  blue  spectacles,  and  powdered 
hair,  his  only  weapon  a  clouded  cane,  I  felt  rather  foolish, 
and  put  the  spade  down. 

"  Good-day,  Monsieur  Astor,"  he  said,  doffing  his  hat 
and  making  a  courtly  bow.  Then,  observing  the  pistols,  he 
added,  with  a  smile:  "You  are  prepared  for  all  eventuali- 
ties, I  see.  It  is  well,  but  I  am  a  man  of  peace.  Don't 
you  recognize  me  ?" 

"  How  should  I  recognize  a  gentleman  whom  I  see  for 
the  first  time  ?" 

"  Not  for  the  first  time.  I  had  the  pleasure  of  making 
your  acquaintance  a  few  weeks  ago." 

And  with  that  my  visitor  removed  his  spectacles. 

"  Is  it  possible  ?"  I  asked,  regarding  him  with  a  bewil- 
dered stare.  "  If  whiskers  like  those  grew  in  a  month,  I 
should  say  you  were  Monsieur  Boulanger." 

"They  can  grow  in  a  moment,  and  disappear  as  quickly" 
(removing  the  whiskers). 

The  ex-vicomte,  beyond  a  doubt;  and  looking  much 
younger  than  he  did  on  the  night  when  he  so  narrowly 
missed  being  hanged. 

"I  am  delighted  to  meet  you  again,"  said  I;  "but  how 
did  you  know  I  was  here  ?" 

"I  had  the  pleasure  of  learning  the  fact  from  my  niece, 
Mademoiselle  Tour." 


A    SURPRISE  63 

"  So  !     You  are  Uncle  Claude." 

"  I  have  that  honor;  sir,  and  it  is  an  honor  to  be  the 
uncle  of  so  brave  and  good  a  girl  as  Angelique." 

"If  she  were  not  both  good  and  brave,  my  head  would 
just  now  be  at  the  end  of  a  pike.  She  saved  my  life,  Mon- 
sieur Boulanger." 

"  And  you  saved  mine." 

"  So  we  are  quits." 

"  Not  at  all.  Angelique  could  not  have  acted  otherwise, 
and  I  count  myself  still  your  debtor.  .  .  .  Ah,  this  has  been 
a  terrible  day,  my  friend — a  day  marked  by  only  one  re- 
deeming feature;  the  heroism  and  devotion  of  the  Swiss 
Guard.  I  take  shame  to  myself  that  I  did  not  fight  by 
your  side  and  share  in  your  danger.  But  I  reached  Paris 
only  at  noon,  and  it  was  then  too  late.  Were  you  aware  of 
a  project  for  carrying  off  the  king  and  the  royal  family  ?•" 

"  I  have  heard  rumors  without  end,  but  nothing  defi- 
nite." 

"  Well,  there  was  a  scheme,  and  a  very  promising  one  -,  but 
as  it  has  failed,  my  lips  are  unsealed,  and  I  can  tell  you  all 
about  it.  In  point  of  fact,  the  attempt  was  never  seriously 
made,  else  it  had  surely  succeeded.  The  plan  was  for  the 
royal  family  to  leave  the  Tuileries  at  night,  escorted  by  the 
Swiss  Guard,  and  make  for  Rouen,  whither  three  hundred 
men  of  the  regiment  were  sent  four  days  ago,  ostensibly  to 
assist  in  the  collection  of  taxes,  really  to  co-operate  in  the 
movement.  Moreover,  the  people  of  Normandy  are  well 
affected  to  the  king,  and  there  is  a  regiment  of  regulars  at 
Rouen  which  would  have  taken  his  part,  and  from  thence 
we  might  have  gone  to  Dieppe,  and  from  Dieppe  to  Eng- 
land. His  majesty  was  quite  willing,  but  at  the  last  minute 
the  queen  persuaded  her  husband  to  withdraw  his  consent. 
It  was  in  connection  with  this  project  that  I  left  Paris 
three  days  ago." 


64  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

"  I  suppose  the  queen  thought  that  resistance  would  be 
nobler  than  flight." 

"  Partly  for  that  reason,  partly  because  she  suspected 
Monsieur  de   Lafayette  had  a   hand  in   the  scheme,  and 
Monsieur  de  Lafayette  is  a  gentleman  whom  she  distrusts. 
I,  too,  think  that  resistance  would  have  been  nobler  than 
flight.     But  we  knew  that  when   it  came  to  the  point  the 
king  would  not  resist,  and  we  had  reason  to  believe  that  the 
National  Guard  would  join  the  rebels,  that,  in  short,  the  only 
means  of  saving  him  was  to  get  him  away.     Now  it  is  too 
late.    But  even  yet  I  do  not  abandon  hope,  and  a  few  of  us, 
royalists  like  myself,  are  resolved  to  rescue  the  royal  cap- 
tives at  all  hazards.     And  now,  my  friend,  about  yourself; 
for  I  dare  say  you  know  your  life  hangs  by  a  thread." 
"When  night  comes  I  shall  go  to  Courbevoie." 
"  How  about  the  barrier  ?" 
"With  this  disguise — " 

"You  think  you  may  slip  through.  Possibly.  But  they 
are  very  strict  at  the  barriers,  and  inability  to  produce  a 
passport,  if  you  are  asked  for  one,  will  insure  your  imme- 
diate arrest,  and  probably  your  immediate  execution.  Von 
had  better  lie  perdu  in  Paris  for  a  few  clays  ;  and  I  engage 
to  find  you  a  hiding-place." 

I  thanked  M.  Boulanger  for  his  kindness,  but  persisted 
in  my  idea  of  returning  to  the  barracks. 

"  Well,  you  can  try  ;  but  I  fear  it  will  be  a  case  of  out  of 
the  frying-pan  into  the  fire.  I  would  lend  you  my  passport, 
which,  by  the  way,  is  forged,  only  as  it  describes  my  personal 
appearance  rather  minutely,  and  you  are  fair  and  long,  and 
I  am  dark  and  short,  it  would  do  you  more  harm  than 
good.     You  might  remain  here — " 

"That  is  quite  out  of  the  question.  Not  for  the  world 
will  I  expose  these  ladies  to  any  further  risk.  They  have 
done  more  than  enough  for  me  already." 


A   SURPRISE  65 

"  I  was  going  to  say  you  would  not  be  safe  here.  You 
were  marked  down  to  the  garden  door,  and  there  may  be  a 
domiciliary  visit  any  moment,  and  both  for  their  sakes  and 
your  own  you  must  get  away  quickly.  And  there  are  other 
reasons.  My  sister  is  an  invalid,  and  already  in  bad  odor 
with  the  Jacobins,  whose  victory  to-day  will  make  them 
more  vicious  than  ever.  Twelve  months  ago  my  late 
brother-in-law  committed  the  unpardonable  crime  of  firing 
on  the  people—  in  defence  of  his  life  and  property  —  and 
was  shortly  afterwards  murdered  in  his  wife's  presence. 
She  has  never  recovered  from  the  shock  ;  her  nervous  sys- 
tem is  quite  unstrung,  and  she  seldom  stirs  from  her  room. 
Since  that  time  Angelique  has  had  entire  charge  of  the 
house  —  of  everything,  in  fact — and  well  she  manages, 
and  nobly  she  bears  the  burden.  Though  not  yet  seventeen, 
she  is  older  in  experience  and  character  than  many  who  are 
twice  her  age.  It  is  all  wrong,  of  course.  According  to  our 
French  ideas,  young  girls  should  be  allowed  neither  initia- 
tive nor  freedom,  much  less  be  placed  at  the  head  of  a 
household.  But  what  would  you?  Need  must  when  the 
devil  drives,  as  your  English  proverb  has  it,  and  times  like 
these  make  strong  natures  stronger,  weak  natures  weaker. 
After  her  father's  death  she  and  her  mother  left  their 
country-house  and  came  hither.  They  live  very  quietly, 
both  from  necessity  and  choice.  The  revolution  has  seri- 
ously impaired  my  sister's  fortune." 

"  Do  you  live  with  them  ?" 

"  My  faith,  no  !  I  am  a  marked  man.  I  only  escape 
arrest  by  adopting  disguises  and  continually  changing  my 
quarters.  Here  I  am  known  as  Dr.  Boul anger,  and  my 
visits  are  strictly  professional.  By  the  way,  my  patient's 
daughter  has  invited  us  to   sup  with  them  this  evening." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  I  am  included  in  the  invitation  ?" 

"  Certainly." 
5 


G6  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

"  But—" 

"  Oh,  the  ladies  will  excuse  your  costume.  One  does  not 
stand  on  ceremony  nowadays." 

'•  J  kit  will  it  be  safe  —  for  them  ?" 

"  I  think  so.  The  sun  is  already  beginning  to  set.  When 
it  is  a  little  lower  you  will  slip  in  at  one  of  the  ground- 
floor  windows,  which  I  shall  point  out  to  you.  Tremblay, 
who  can  turn  his  hand  to  anything,  waits  at  table.  None 
of  the  other  servants  will  know  that  you  are  in  the  house. 
You  will  come,  of  course  ?  Good  !  Now  behold  !  In  an 
hour  from  this  time  turn  into  that  path,  and  follow  it  to  the 
end,  when  you  will  find  yourself  opposite  a  long  window 
with  two  wings  which  will  be  left  ajar.  Go  in  without 
knocking,  sit  down  and  wait.  Only  —  and  this  is  impor- 
tant— if  there  is  a  light  in  the  room,  remain  in  the  shrubbery 
until  it  is  removed." 

"I  must  regard  the  light  as  a  danger  signal." 

"  Precisely.  And  now  I  shall  say  good-bye  for  the  pres- 
ent. I  am  going  outside  to  see  whether  the  coast  is  clear, 
and  ascertain,  if  I  can,  what  these  ruffians  propose  to  do 
with  the  king  and  queen,  and  those  of  your  comrades  whom 
they  have  not  already  destroyed.  ...  In  an  hour,  remem- 
ber ;  and  till  then,  good-bye." 

It  seemed  a  long  hour,  for  my  thoughts  were  not  happy, 
and  I  was  getting  weary  of  inaction  and  suspense;  but  it 
came  to  an  end,  and  at  the  time  appointed  "by  M.  Boulanger 
I  was  at  the  window  which  he  had  described  to  me.  After 
pausing  for  a  moment  to  make  sure  that  I  was  not  observed, 
I  pushed  the  window  open  and  went  in,  and  was  about  to 
sit  down  when  I  heard  the  rustling  of  a  gown. 

"  Monsieur  Astor  ?"  said  a  voice  which  I  recognized  as 
that  of  the  daughter  of  the  house. 

"The  same,  mademoiselle,  at  your  service." 

"  Will  you  give  yourself  the  trouble  to  come  this  way, 


A   SURPRISE  67 

monsieur  ?"  opening  a  door  which  seemed  to  lead  into  a 
dark  passage. 

I  followed  her ;  at  the  end  of  the  passage  she  opened 
another  door,  and  I  found  myself  in  a  spacious  drawing- 
room,  handsomely  furnished,  but  rather  dimly  lighted.  The 
table  was  laid  for  dinner  with  covers  for  three,  from  which 
I  inferred  that  either  Mme.  de  la  Tour  or  her  brother  was 
not  to  be  of  the  party. 

"  Isn't  Dr.  Boulanger  coming  ?"  I  asked. 

"  He  will  be  here  in  a  few  minutes.  But  I  am  sorry  to 
say  my  mother  is  not  able  to  dine  with  us  this  evening." 

Just  then  I  happened  to  glance  at  my  reflected  image  in 
one  of  the  mirrors  that  adorned  the  room,  and  was  both 
amused  and  annoyed  at  the  figure  I  cut  in  my  borrowed 
clothes.  I  had  never  worn  trousers  before,  and  besides 
being  shabby,  Tremblay's  nether  garments  were  a  world  too 
short  for  me.  Moreover,  in  addition  to  being  equally  shabby, 
the  blouse  by  no  means  set  off  my  figure  to  advantage. 

Mile,  de  la  Tour  seemed  to  guess  my  thoughts. 

"  It  is  a  very  effectual  disguise,"  she  said,  with  an  amused 
smile.  "  But  hadn't  you  better  dispense  with  those  gaiters 
before  you  venture  outside  ?  They  have  a  suspiciously 
military  look,  and  gardeners  don't  generally  wear  hair  pow- 
der, I  think." 

"  You  are  quite  right,  and  I  am  very  stupid.  Yes,  white 
buckskin  gaiters  and  a  powdered  poll  would  betray  me  to 
the  first  gendarme  I  met.  I  must  dispense  with  both  before 
I  set  out  for  Courbevoie.     Ah,  here  comes  your  uncle." 

As  he  entered  the  room,  followed  by  Tremblay,  M.  Bou- 
langer gave  me  a  friendly  greeting  and  spoke  a  word  to  his 
niece ;  but  he  looked  unusually  grave,  as  though  he  had 
bad  news. 

When  we  were  all  seated,  he  asked  Tremblay  whether  he 
had  taken  every  precaution. 


6S  FOR   HONOR   AND    LIFE 

"I  think  so,"  answered  the  old  soldier ,  "  the  dogs  are  on 
guard,  and  if  anybody  approaches  the  front  gate  will  give 
the  alarm  in  ample  time  to  enable  monsieur  (glancing  at 
me)  to  return  to  his  tree.  The  maids  haven't  the  least 
suspicion  that  you  are  not  the  only  guest ;.  I  accounted  for 
the  third  cover  by  saying  that  Madame  de  la  Tour  would 
probably  come  down  to  dinner." 

"  Nobody  suspects  anything,  we  cannot  be  taken  by  sur- 
prise. So  far  good,  if  anything  can  be  good  on  this  dis- 
astrous day." 

"  What  has  happened  beyond  what  we  know,  uncle  ?" 
asked  Angelique,  anxiously.     "  That  is  bad  enough." 

"Worse  has  happened.  Colonel  Maillardoz,  Major  Bach- 
mann,  and  the  other  officers  and  soldiers  of  the  Swiss  Guard 
who  escorted  the  king  to  the  Assembly  were  arrested  on 
their  arrival  thither,  and  are  now  in  prison.  When  the 
remnant  of  Captain  von  Durler's  column  reached  the  same 
place  the  king  actually  gave  them  a  written  order  to  lay 
down  their  arms,  which  they  had  no  sooner  done  than  they, 
too,  were  imprisoned.  The  soldiers  who  refused  to  sur- 
render were  massacred  on  the  spot." 

"If  I  had  been  the  King  of  France,  I  would  have  died 
rather  than  give  such  an  order!"  exclaimed  Ange'lique, 
warmly. 

"  My  poor  comrades  !"  said  I,  in  a  broken  voice,  for  my 
heart  was  full.  "And  the  regiment  so  brave  and  loyal  ! 
All  save  the  few  who  have  escaped  for  the  moment,  the 
handful  at  Courbevoie  and  the  detachment  in  Normandy, 
dead  or  in  prison  !" 

"  For  which  you  have  to  thank  his  majesty.  Uncle 
Claude,  I  do  believe  he  is  a  poltroon." 

Dr.  Boulanger  looked  inexpressibly  shocked. 

"  I  lush  !  For  Heaven's  sake  hush,  Angelique  !  You  must 
not  defame  the  king,"  he  said,  severely.     "  Besides,  he  is 


A   SURPRISE  69 

not  a  poltroon.  Think  what  courage  he  showed  when  the 
sans-culottes  invaded  the  Tuileries." 

"  Yes,  the  passive  courage  of  a  spiritless  woman.  No 
man  worthy  the  name  would  have  surrendered  to  a  mob, 
and  ordered  his  brave  defenders  to  lay  down  their  arms. 
Oh,  I  don't  pity  him  at  all.  But  I  do  with  all  my  heart 
pity  the  queen.     Poor  queen,  to  be  tied  to  a — " 

"  Angelique !"  interrupted  her  uncle,  warningly. 

"  Well,  I  won't  call  him  a  poltroon  again,  though  he  is 
one  all  the  same.  But  you  must  admit  that  Louis  XVI.  is 
a  very  poor  specimen  of  a  king." 

"  He  is  a  king  no  longer,  except  by  divine  right." 

"  How  ?" 

"  They  have  decreed  the  dethronement,  and  the  king  and 
the  royal  family  are  to  be  imprisoned  in  the  Temple." 

"  And  afterwards  ?" 

"  Heaven  only  knows.     Probably  the  block." 

"  My  God  !  You  surely  don't  think  they  will  guillotine 
the  queen  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  do,  unless  we  can  rescue  her." 

"  Will  that  be  possible  ?" 

"  Everything  is  possible  for  resolute  men  with  a  good 
cause." 

And  then  followed  a  long  silence.  The  ex-vicomte,  though 
he  ate  little,  drank  freely,  but  the  wine  seemed  only  to 
deepen  his  gloom.  I,  too,  drank  more  than  my  wont-  eating 
was  out  of  the  question.  Angelique's  beautiful  face  was 
overcast  with  the  sadness  of  her  thoughts,  and  a  tear  trem- 
bled on  her  long  eyelashes — in  sorrow  for  her  father  or 
pity  for  the  queen — not,  I  felt  sure,  for  the  king.  Though  so 
young,  she  was  tall  and  well  grown,  and  the  simplicity  of 
her  attire  showed  her  good  taste  as  much  as  it  heightened 
her  charms.  Her  only  ornaments  were  a  diamond  mourn- 
ing-ring: on  one  of  her  slender  fingers,  and  a  red  rose  at 


JO  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

her  breast ;  and  her  dark  eyes  and  still  darker  eyebrows, 
fair  skin  and  peach-like  complexion,  matched  well  with  her 
hair,  powdered  for  the  evening  in  the  fashion  of  the  clay. 

After  the  silence  had  endured  several  minutes,  it  was 
broken  with  startling  effect  by  the  loud  baying  of  the  watch- 
dogs at  the  gate. 

Angelique  gave  a  little  scream. 

"Go  and  see  what  it  is,"  said  Dr.  Boulanger  to  Tremblay, 
■who  at  this  moment  entered  the  room.  "  And  you,  Mon- 
sieur Astor,  had  better  resume  your  perch  for  a  few  minutes. 
If  it  is  a  false  alarm  I  will  whistle." 

I  obeyed  on  the  instant;  but  I  had  no  sooner  climbed  up 
to  my  old  place  than  the  preconcerted  signal  recalled  me  to 
the  house. 

"  It  was  a  false  alarm,  then  ?"  I  observed  to  15oulanger. 

"  In  a  sense  ;  that  is  to  say,  there  has  been  no  demand 
for  admission,  but  Tremblay  reports  that  a  suspicious  look- 
ing individual  is  loitering  about  the  gate — probably  a  spy." 

"  In  that  case,  it  would  probably  be  as  well  for  me  to  go 
at  once." 

"  I  almost  think  so.  You  are  still  minded  to  go  to 
Courbevoie  ?" 

"I  am." 

"The  barracks  may  be  attacked." 

"All  the  more  reason  I  should  be  there  to  take  a  hand 
in  their  defence." 

"Spoken  like  a  brave  man.  T  shall  bear  you  company  as 
far  as  the  barrier  and  see  how  you  fare.  If  you  get  into  a 
difficulty  I  may  be  able  to  help  you  out.  What  name  do 
you  propose  to  give  yourself  ?" 

"Let  me  see  !     You  are  a  Baker,  I  will  be  Butcher." 

"  Good  !     Your  name  for  the  nonce  is  Anatolc  Boucher. 

listen  :  I  shall  leave  by  the  front  gate,  and  as  Tremblay 

lets  me  out  he  will  say,  'Good-ni-hi,  Monsieur  le  Docteur,' 


A   SURPRISE  71 

in  a  voice  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  the  spy,  whom  I  shall 
accost  and  keep  in  conversation  for  a  minute  or  two.  In 
the  meanwhile  you  will  leave  by  the  side  door,  and  take  the 
path  to  the  right  which  leads  into  the  main  road,  where  I 
shall  presently  join  you.  Go  at  your  ease,  and  don't  look 
behind  you.  There  may  be  other  spies  about,  and  the  best 
way  to  throw  those  fellows  off  the  scent  is  to  appear  uncon- 
scious of  their  presence.     Are  you  armed  ?" 

"I  have  a  pair  of  pistols  under  my  blouse." 

"  You  may  need  a  weapon  that  can  be  used  without  mak- 
ing a  noise,  and  does  not  require  reloading." 

As  Dr.  Eoulanger  spoke  he  whipped  into  the  hall  and 
returned  with  a  broad-bladed  dagger  in  a  shagreen  scabbard. 

"  Take  that ;  it  may  serve  you  in  good  stead  before  this 
time  to-morrow,"  said  he. 

I  thanked  him,  and  put  the  dagger  inside  my  blouse. 

"  And  now  I  had  better  set  off,"  he  added.  "  If  you  leave 
by  the  side  door,  in  three  or  four  minutes  we  shall  meet  in 
the  avenue.  But  be  careful  neither  to  loiter,  hurry,  nor  look 
back." 

"  And  those  gaiters  and  your  hair  ?"  observed  Angelique, 
when  her  uncle  was  gone. 

"  Will  you  allow  me  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Of  course.  This  is  no  time  for  standing  on  ceremony, 
and  you  have  no  time  to  lose." 

I  doffed  the  telltale  gaiters,  and,  taking  a  napkin  from 
the  table,  rubbed  the  powder  out  of  my  hair,  which,  fortu- 
nately, was  short. 

This  done,  I  bade  Angelique  good-bye. 

"  Heaven  only  knows  whether  we  shall  meet  again  !"  I 
said,  in  a  voice  tremulous  with  the  emotion  which  I  could 
not  conceal.  "  But  while  I  live  I  shall  never  forget  this 
night,  and  that  to  your  kindness  and  hospitality  I  owe  my 
escape  from  a  great  danger." 


•j 2  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

"And  it  will  always  be  a  pleasure  to  me  to  think,"  she 
answered,  "that  it  has  been  my  good-fortune  to  render  a 
service  to  a  brave  soldier,  who  not  long  ago  rendered  a  still 
greater  service  to  my  dear  uncle.'" 

Then  we  shook  hands,  and  three  minutes  later  I  was  out- 
side the  garden. 


CHAPTER     XI 
TEN    HEADS 

It  was  a  beautiful  night,  calm  and  windless ;  and  though 
there  was  no  light  of  the  moon,  the  stars  were  so  bright  and 
the  air  so  clear  that,  save  where  the  trees  intercepted  the 
view,  I  could  see  a  fair  distance,  both  front  and  rear,  for, 
notwithstanding  my  mentor's  injunctions,  I  did  once  look 
backward,  and,  as  I  expected,  saw  nobody. 

Then  I  went  on  at  an  easy  pace,  and  was  soon  so  deeply 
absorbed  in  thought  that  my  walk  became  automatic,  and 
when  somebody  touched  me  on  the  shoulder  I  did  what 
startled  people  generally  do,  obeyed  the  first  impulse,  which, 
in  this  instance,  was  to  wheel  round  and  seize  the  intruder 
by  the  throat. 

"Not  so  fast,"  said  M.  Boulanger,  who  seemed  as  much 
surprised  at  feeling  my  hand  at  his  windpipe  as  I  had  been 
at  feeling  his  on  my  shoulder.  "  I  congratulate  you  on 
your  alertness,  but  I  would  rather  you  displayed  it  for  the 
confusion  of  your  enemies  than  the  bewilderment  of  your 
friends." 

"  I  was  not  alert.  If  I  had  been  I  should  have  heard 
your  footsteps." 

"  Well,  I  did  step  rather  softly,  with  the  intention  of  sur- 
prising you.  I  shall  not  repeat  the  experiment,  and  you 
were  justified  in  resenting  that  touch ,  it  was  too  sugges- 
tive." 

"Of  what?" 

"  Handcuffs,  a  dungeon,  the  guillotine,  according  to  cir- 
cumstances.    A  touch  on  the  shoulder  is  the  usual  prelimi- 


74  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

nary  to  an  arrest.  Tremblay  was  right;  that  fellow  was  a 
spy,  and  unless  I  am  mistaken  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  a 
second." 

'•  Whom  are  they  after,  do  you  suppose  ?" 

"  One  of  us ;  that  goes  without  saying.  Either  they  im- 
agine that  the  Swiss  officer,  who  so  mysteriously  evaded  the 
gendarmes,  maybe  hiding  in  or  about  the  house,  or  suspect 
that  the  ci-devant  Vicomte  de  Lancy  pays  occasional  visits 
to  his  sister,  and,  as  you  are  aware,  the  police  are  very 
anxious  to  lay  that  gentleman  by  the  heels." 

"  Did  you  accost  the  scoundrel  ?" 

"  Of  course,  and  had  a  talk  with  him.  He  pretended  that 
he  had  lost  his  way,  asked  whose  house  it  was  I  had  just 
quitted,  and  when  I  told  him,  said  he  had  heard  the  lady 
was  not  well,  and  made  several  inquiries,  to  which  I  gave 
suitable  answers." 

"  And  yen  don't  suppose  he  suspected  who  you  were  ?" 

"If  he  had  I  should  not  be  here  just  now.  But  it  is  clear 
that  unless  my  visits  to  the  Villa  de  la  Tour  are  few  and  far 
between  I  shall  be  suspected.  And  now  about  Courbevoie. 
It  is  a  dangerous  enterprise  on  which  you  are  bent,  Mon- 
sieur Astor.  The  guards  at  the  barriers  have  all  been 
doubled  since  morning;  they  are  very  much  on  the  quivive, 
and  eager  to  catch  any  fugitive  Swiss  who  may  have  escaped 
the  massacre,  and  if  you  are  arrested  you  will  be  a  lost 
man." 

'•  Nobody  can  recognize  me  in  these  clothes." 

"  Perhaps  not;  but  if  you  are  arrested  you  will  be  searched, 
and  a  soi-disant  gardener,  with  a  brace  of  pistols  and  a  dag- 
ger under  his  bell,  would  find  it  difficult  to  convince  his 
captors  that  he  waswh.it  he  pretended  to  be.  lie  would  be 
detained,  pending  further  inquiries,  and  further  inquiries 
might  lead  to  his  premature  removal  from  this  world  to 
another." 


TEN    HEADS  75 

"  Shall  I  throw  the  pistols  away  ?  Or  will  you  take  them 
and  the  dagger  ?" 

"  A  thousand  thanks.  The  remedy  might  be  worse  than 
the  disease  —  for  me.  No,  keep  them  for  the  present,  and 
when  we  have  reconnoitred  the  barrier —  Hark  !  What  is 
that  ?" 

I  also  had  heard  something,  and,  after  listening  for  a  few 
seconds,  we  exclaimed  with  one  voice  : 

"  A  mob  !" 

There  was  no  mistake  about  it.  Once  heard,  the  clamor 
of  a  revolutionary  mob  could  never  be  confounded  with 
aught  else.  A  confused  murmur,  now  dying  away,  anon 
rising  to  a  roar,  amid  which  might  now  and  then  be  dis- 
tinguished shrill  cries,  hoarse  shouts,  and  the  clash  of 
weapons. 

"  Coming  this  way,  too,  and  from  the  barrier,"  said  Bou- 
langer.     "  Can  we  see  them,  I  wonder  ?" 

By  this  time  we  had  reached  the  principal  avenue,  and 
perceived,  coming  towards  us,  a  line  of  torches,  which  threw 
a  lurid  light  on  the  dense  mass  of  howling  maniacs  behind 
them,  some  of  whom  were  singing  the  "  Marseillaise,"  others 
the  "  Carmagnole  "  and  the  "  Ca  Ira." 

On  my  companion's  proposal,  we  stepped  under  a  big 
beech-tree,  whence,  by  keeping  well  in  the  shade,  we  could 
see  without  being  observed. 

As  the  procession  drew  nearer  we  perceived,  between  the 
torch-bearers  and  the  main  body,  a  row  of  pikes  with  some- 
thing at  the  ends. 

"  Are  those  things  on  the  pike-points  caps  of  liberty, 
or—  ?" 

"  Heads,"  added  Boulanger.     "  I  fear  they  are  heads." 

"  God  forbid  !  One,  two,  three,  four — why,  there  are  ten 
of  them !" 

"  Yes,  ten,  and  they  are  not  caps.     Caps  of  liberty  are 


76  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

red.  Those  things  are —  And  doesn't  that  which  is  turned 
this  way  look  like  a  bearded  face  streaked  with  blood  ?" 

When  the  hideous  procession  came  over  against  our  tree 
a  halt  was  called,  and  the  demoniacs  chanted  the  "  Marseil- 
laise "  to  the  accompaniment  of  kettle-drums  and  cymbals. 
The  torch-bearers  and  a  horde  of  dishevelled  furies  formed 
a  circle  round  the  ten  pikemen  and  danced. 

"  It  is  like  hell  broke  loose,"  muttered  Boulanger. 

As  the  torch-bearers  in  their  wild  whirlings  uplifted  their 
torches,  I  got  a  better  view  of  the  ghastly  trophies  carried 
by  the  pikemen,  and  my  soul  froze  with  horror  when,  in  the 
bearded  face  streaked  with  blood,  I  recognized  the  features 
of  the  corporal  of  the  barrack-guard,  and  in  another  those 
of  my  friend  Glutz. 

I  had  gone  through  the  day's  fighting  and  alarms  with- 
out losing  courage  or  presence  of  mind,  but  at  that  terrible 
moment  my  nerve  failed  me.  For  the  first  time  in  my  life 
I  knew  fear — downright  bodily  fear.  My  knees  knocked  to- 
gether, and  I  closed  my  eyes  to  shut  out  the  dreadful  sight. 
So  completely  did  I  become  unmanned  that  I  was  on  the 
point  of  running  away,  which  had  been  to  court  death.  But 
at  this  moment  my  companion  spoke  to  me.  His  voice 
broke  the  spell  and  recalled  me  to  my  senses. 

"What  is  it,  Astor  ?  What  is  the  matter?  Are  you  ill?" 
he  asked,  anxiously. 

"The  heads  !"  I  gasped.  "  I  know  them.  The  corporal 
of  the  guard — my  comrade.  Glutz.  We  left  ten  men  at  the 
barracks,  nearly  all  invalids." 

"  And  these  are  their  heads.  No  wonder  you  are  so 
overcome.  "Oh,  the  fiends!  1  would  give  all  that  is  left 
to  me  of  life  for  a  couple  of  field-guns  and  a  few  whiffs  of 
pe-shot." 

At  these  words  my  mood  changed.  My  fear  turned  to 
blind  rage.      I  drew  my  pistols,  and  but  for  Boulanger' 


TEN    HEADS  77 

straining  hand  I  should  have  attacked  the  mob  single- 
handed. 

"Why  throw  your  life  away?"  he  said.  "How  would 
that  avenge  your  slaughtered  comrades  ?  Restrain  your- 
self. Revenge  is  for  those  who  know  how  to  wait.  See, 
they  are  going,  and  those  hateful  trophies  will  soon  be  out 
of  sight." 

There  was  reason  in  my  friend's  remonstrance,  and  as 
the  savages  marched  away  I  grew  calmer,  though  my  heart 
was  full  to  bursting  of  rage  and  grief. 

Not  all  went.  The  line  of  march  was  strewn  with  pros- 
trate men  and  women,  who  looked  as  though  they  were 
dead,  but  were  simply  dead-drunk. 

"  They  have  plundered  somebody's  cellar,"  observed 
Boulanger,  grimly.  "  I  wish  they  had  all  drunk  to  suffo- 
cation. You  cannot  go  to  Courbevoie  after  this.  It  were 
sheer  suicide." 

"  It  is  the  last  place  I  want  to  go  to — now ;  and  I  should 
probably  find  the  barracks  in  ruins.  But  whither  shall  I 
go?" 

"  With  me,  if  you  will ;  I  think  I  can  find  you  a  refuge 
for  the  night." 

"  At  your  lodgings  ?" 

"No;  that  were  to  compromise  us  both.  I  think  they 
will  take  you  in  at  the  house  of  the  late  General  de  Besen- 
val,  who  was  a  dear  friend  of  mine.  It  now  belongs  to  his 
widow.  The  family  is  from  home,  but  the  porter,  a  coun- 
tryman of  yours  and  a  very  decent  fellow,  is  in  sole  charge." 

"  You  mean  he  is  a  Swiss  ?" 

"  Yes,  like  yourself." 

"  I  am  an  Englishman."  And  then  I  explained  how  I 
had  come  to  join  the  Swiss  Guard. 

"  Well,  I  think  you  would  have  done  better  to  join  one  of 
the  guard  regiments  of  King  George,"  said  Boulanger,  dryly. 


7S  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIKE 

"  So  do  I ;  but  that  is  not  to  the  point.  I  want  to  let 
my  father  know  that  I  have  survived  the  massacre.  Can 
it  be  done  ?" 

'•  Why  not?     There  is  the  post." 

••  The  name  might  be  recognized  and  my  letter  opened." 

"  There  is  no  reason  why  you  should  give  your  address, 
and  if  I  post  your  letter  in  the  Rue  de  Coquillere  it  will  af- 
ford no  clew  to  your  hiding-place  in  the  Place  de  l'Hotel 
des  Invalid 

"Is  that  where  we  are  going?" 

'•  I  lard  by.     Let  us  go  while  the  road  is  clear." 

At  the  end  of  the  Champs-Elyse'es  we  turned  onto  the 
Quai  de  la  Conference,  and  crossed  the  Seine  by  the  bridge 
Louis  XVI.,  which  at  that  time  was  under  repair  or  not 
quite  finished — I  forget  which.  Then  by  the  Palais  Bour- 
bon, and  down  the  Rue  de  Bourgogne,  as  far  as  the  Rue  de 
Varennes.  On  the  way  we  met  several  patrols,  who,  fortu- 
nately, gave  us  no  trouble. 

Mine,  de  Be'senval's  house  was  in  the  regular  style  of 
architecture  of  that  aristocratic  quarter,  a  carriage  gateway 
opening  into  a  court  which  you  had  to  cross  in  order  to 
gain  the  front  door.  The  porter's  lodge  was  inside  the 
gateway. 

The  large  doors  were  closed,  and  as  Boulanger  knocked 
at  the  wicket  he  informed  me  that  the  porter's  name  was 
Schlessingcr,  and  suggested  that  it  might  be  as  well  to 
avoid  mentioning  that  I  was  not  a  born  Switzer.  The 
wicket  opened  a  few  inches,  and  at  the  opening  appe 
an  elderly  man,  who  eyed  us  suspiciously  by  the  light  of  a 
lantern,  which  he  held  on  a  level  with  his  head. 

"  Who  are  you,  and  what  do  you  want  ?"  he  demanded. 

"The  last  time  I  had  the  pleasure  of  dining  here,  Mon- 
sieur Schlessinger,  I  was  the  Vicomte  de  Lancy." 

'•  You  don't  look  much  like  him." 


TEN    HEADS 


79 


"  It  would  be  a  serious  reflection  on  my  disguise  if  I  did. 
Perhaps  I  look  more  like  him  now  "  (taking  off  his  spec- 
tacles). 

"  Yes,  now  I  recognize  you.  Pray  excuse  my  doubts,  but 
these  are  times  when  one  has  to  be  cautious,  and  I  am 
quite  alone.  The  house  is  unoccupied.  Will  you  give 
yourselves  the  trouble  to  enter,  gentlemen  ?" 

Schlessinger  opened  the  wicket,  and  so  soon  as  we  were 
inside  carefully  bolted  it ;  then  led  the  way  to  his  lodge,  a 
snug  little  room  principally  furnished  with  a  huge  arm- 
chair. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you,  Monsieur  le  Vicomte  ?"  he  asked, 
after  inviting  us  to  be  seated. 

"  Dr.  Boulanger,  if  you  please,  Monsieur  Schlessinger. 
Vicomtes  are  not  popular  in  Paris  at  present.  I  want  you, 
out  of  the  goodness  of  your  heart,  to  give  this  gentleman  a 
lodging  for  a  few  days  in  some  remote  part  of  the  house. 
He  is  one  of  the  few  officers  of  the  Swiss  Guard  who  escaped 
the  massacre — " 

"  Gott  in  Himmel!  you  were  in  the  fight  at  the  Tuileries 
and  are  still  alive  !"  (turning  to  me). 

"  Yes."  And  then  I  had  to  tell  him  all  about  it,  and 
answer  many  questions  ;  after  which  we  came  to  the  crucial 
point :  would  he  take  me  in  ? 

Schlessinger  was  obviously  kind-hearted  and  sympa- 
thetic ;  but  the  times  were  dangerous,  and  he  naturally  re- 
flected before  answering. 

"  You  see  this  is  not  my  house,  and  I  don't  know  whether 
Madame  de  Besenval  would  like  it,"  quoth  he ;  "  and  they 
have  killed  several  Swiss  porters  already,  and  are  continu- 
ally making  domiciliary  visits;  and  spies  simply  swarm. 
All  the  same,  being  a  Switzer  and  having  bowels,  I  cannot 
turn  a  countryman  away,  and  if  you  will  consent  to  occupy 
a  little  chamber  right  at  the  top,  under  the  tiles,  you  may 


So  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

Stay  there  a  day  or  two,  or  until  you  find  safer  quarters  ; 
for  I  really  don't  think  you  will  be  safe  here.  This  is  an 
aristocratic  quarter,  remember." 

1  gratefully  accepted  M.  Schlessinger's  offer.  "Put  me 
where  you  will."'  quoth  I,  "a  soldier  should  always  be 
ready  to  rough  it,  and  I  am  not  fastidious.  All  I  ask  is 
some  place  to  put  my  head  in,  and  as  I  should  be  sorry  to 
expose  you  to  danger,  I  shall  be  ready  to  quit  whenever  you 
think  there  is  any  likelihood  of  a  domiciliary  visit." 

And  then  I  asked  him  for  writing  materials,  and  wrote  a 
few  lines  to  my  father  : 

"  I  am  alive  and  only  slightly  wounded.  Uncle  Daniel  died  a  sol- 
dier's death.  With  his  dying  breath  he  sent  you  his  love.  The  regi- 
ment did  its  duty.  Fkitz." 

I  folded  and  sealed  the  letter,  and  gave  it  to  Boulanger 
to  post. 

"  I  shall  call  to-morrow  or  the  next  day  to  see  how  you 
are  going  on,"  he  said. 

On  which  we  shook  hands,  and,  after  seeing  him  out, 
Schlessinger  showed  me  to  my  bedroom.  It  was,  as  he 
said,  quite  at  the  top  of  the  house — a  mere  hole,  little  larger 
than  a  cupboard,  and  might  well  pass  unobserved  in  the 
event  of  an  unexpected  intrusion. 

'•  1  .shall  bring  you  your  breakfast  in  the  morning,"  said 
he  :  "but  as  you  value  your  life,  don't  show  your  nose  out- 
side until  I  come.  Domiciliary  visits  are  often  made  early 
in  the  day.     Schlafen  sic  wohl/"  (sleep  you  well). 

And  then  he  left  me  to  myself. 


CHAPTER    XII 
HIDE- AND  -SEEK 

My  head  aches,  my  wound  smarts,  and,  worse  still,  my 
mind  is  on  the  rack.  My  thoughts  are  as  dark  as  the  night ; 
and  when,  overcome  by  bodily  weariness,  I  sleep,  my  dreams 
are  nightmares,  hideous  and  grotesque.  I  see  again,  with 
additions  and  distortions,  the  deadly  march  through  the 
palace  gardens,  the  fight  at  the  swinging  bridge,  and  bend 
over  my  dying  uncle  at  the  foot  of  the  statue.  I  race  for 
my  life  across  the  great  square,  pursued  by  fiery  steeds  and 
fiends  with  flaming  swords,  and  as  their  weapons  are  de- 
scending on  my  head  waken  with  a  cry  of  terror. 

After  a  long  interval  spent  in  disordered  musings,  I  sleep 
again,  and  dream  of  severed  heads  and  headless  bodies.  I 
am  surrounded  by  a  horde  of  decapitated  sans-culottes,  each 
of  whom  holds  in  one  hand  a  sword,  in  the  other  a  torch. 
I  feel  like  one  paralyzed,  I  can  neither  stir  nor  speak ;  but 
as  they  close  in  on  me  and  raise  their  weapons  to  strike, 
the  scene  changes,  the  sans-culottes  vanish,  and  their  places 
are  taken  by  a  circle  of  head-crowned  pikes.  One  is  Glutz, 
another  the  corporal  of  the  guard.  I  know  them  all.  They 
dance  round  me  as  though  they  were  alive,  but  their  eyes 
are  fixed  and  expressionless,  their  mouths  wide  open,  and 
their  white  blood-streaked  faces  are  the  faces  of  the  dead. 

Presently  the  ten  are  joined  by  two  other's  —  Angelique 
and  the  vicomte.  He  looks  as  ghastly  as  the  others,  yet 
her  face  is  life-like  and  her  eyes  speak,  and  as  they  meet 
mine,  she  smiles,  then  bends  forward  as  though  to  kiss  me. 
But  when  her  lips  are  close  to  mine,  her  jaws  drop,  her  face 
6 


S2  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

takes  the  hue  of  death,  and  I  waken  with  a  cry  of  horror, 
trembling  like  a  leaf. 

After  this  I  slept  no  more,  and  when  the  first  gleam  of 
dawn  shone  through  the  little  dormer-window  that  lighted 
my  garret  I  felt  truly  thankful  and  intensely  relieved. 

After  looking  through  the  window,  which  commanded 
an  extensive  view  of  the  steep  roofs  and  long  chimneys,  I 
lay  down  again  and  closed  my  eyes,  and  might  have  fallen 
asleep  had  I  not  been  disturbed  and  roused  to  full  wake- 
fulness by  the  clash  of  bells.  At  first  I  thought  it  was  the 
tocsin  again,  but  the  next  moment  I  remembered  that  it 
was  Sunday  morning,  and  that  the  same  bells  that  had 
called  the  people  to  arms  and  rebellion  thirty  hours  previ- 
ously were  now  calling  them  to  prayer. 

1  was  not  much  given  to  moralizing  in  those  days,  but  it 
seemed  a  strange  world,  and  I  thought  that  of  all  the  peo- 
ple it  contained  the  French  were  surely  the  strangest. 
They  were  celebrating  the  advent  of  what  they  called  free- 
dom by  the  slaughter  of  the  innocent,  and  replacing  the 
mild  rule  of  a  feeble  king  with  the  ferocious  tyranny  of 
mob -law.  Like  the  frogs  in  the  fable,  they  had  deposed 
King  Log  in  favor  of  King  Stork.  So  much  was  obvious 
even  to  my  inexperienced  understanding. 

It  was  growing  late,  and  Schlessinger  was  long  in  com- 
ing with  my  breakfast.  Not  that  I  felt  hungry,  but  I  was 
sick  of  solitude  and  dying  for  news.  If  I  could  have  fore- 
seen how  much  longer  and  drearier  a  solitude  I  was  des- 
tined  to  endure  I  should  doubtless  have  borne  the  infliction 
mere  patiently. 

In  the  end  Schlessinger  came  with  coffee  and  rolls, 
which  greatly  refreshed  me.  He  had  been  out  making  in- 
quiries; this  it  was  that  had  made  him  so  late.  From  an 
acquaintance  who  belonged  to  the  National  Guard  he  had 
d    news  that  surpassed   my    worst    anticipations,  and 


HIDE-AND-SEEK  83 

showed  that  the  account  given  by  Tremblay,  which  I 
thought  exaggerated,  was  less  terrible  than  the  truth. 

The  regiment,  as  a  military  force,  was  utterly  destroyed, 
and  the  few  survivors  were  either  prisoners  or  fugitives. 
All  the  wounded  officers,  except  M.  Reding,  who  was  after- 
wards foully  murdered  in  the  Abbaye  prison,  had  been 
killed.  On  the  other  hand,  several  officers  of  the  first 
column,  including  Captain  von  Durler,  had  escaped  from 
durance  and  so  far  avoided  recapture.  But  Major  Bach- 
mann  and  ten  other  officers  were  under  arrest,  and  had  been, 
or  would  be,  transferred  to  the  Abbaye.  As  to  the  men, 
it  was  hardly  possible  that,  except  a  few  who  had  contrived 
to  change  their  uniforms  for  plain  clothes,  any  could  have 
escaped.  All  of  them  who  outlived  the  combat  at  the 
palace  and  the  fight  in  the  garden  and  at  the  bridge  had 
been  hunted  down  and  slain. 

I  greatly  feared  that  among  these  were  Sternberg  and 
Waldteufel,  and  that  I  should  never  see  them  again. 

Schlessinger,  as  I  could  see,  sorrowed  sincerely  for  his 
slaughtered  countrymen,  many  of  whom  he  had  known  ; 
but  what  seemed  most  to  concern  him  at  the  moment  was 
that,  as  he  had  been  informed,  strenuous  efforts  were  being 
made  to  take  the  five  or  six  officers  of  the  regiment  who 
were  still  at  large.  Their  names  were  known  ;  the  police 
had  been  furnished  with  full  descriptions  of  their  persons, 
my  own  among  the  number,  and  ordered  to  spare  no  pains 
to  discover  their  whereabouts  and  hale  them  to  prison. 
It  had,  moreover,  been  given  out  that  whosoever  sheltered 
the  fugitives  would  be  held  equally  guilty. 

"  Which  means  that  if  you  are  found  here  we  shall  both 
lose  our  heads,"  added  Schlessinger ;  and  the  prospect  did 
not  seem  to  give  him  much  pleasure. 

Though  just  then  so  overwhelmed  with  grief  that  I  cared 
little  what  became  of  me,  I  could  neither  ignore  the  old 


84  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

man's  apprehensions  nor  appear  indifferent  to  his  safety. 
I  told  him  that  I  should  take  whatever  precautions  he 
deemed  necessary,  or,  if  he  liked,  depart  forthwith. 

But  this  he  would  not  hear  of;  for  albeit  nervous  (and 
no  wonder),  he  was  no  dastard. 

'•  No,  no,"  he  said ;  "  to  let  you  go  now  were  to  send  you 
to  your  death." 

"  1  don't  see  that.     You  forget  my  blouse." 

"  The  blouse  might  do  after  dark  ;  but  in  the  daytime  it 
is  less  a  disguise  than  a  telltale.  I  saw  at  once  when  you 
came  into  my  lodge  last  night  that  you  were  no  workman." 

"  How  so  ?" 

••  Vour  hands  are  clean  and  soft,  your  nails  nicely  trimmed  ; 
you  don't  slouch  in  your  gait,  you  are  well  set  up,  your 
hair  is  short,  and  your  bearing  military.  A  spy  or  a  de- 
tective would  spot  you  at  once.  He  would  say  to  himself : 
'That  fellow  is  no  laborer;  I  must  follow  him  and  find 
out  what  he  is.'  " 

"  You  are  a  keen  observer,  Monsieur  Schlessinger." 

"  A  concierge  must  be  an  observer ;  it  is  part  of  his 
business.  I  have  been  at  the  job  nearly  forty  years,  and 
I  can  tell  a  gentleman,  let  him  disguise  himself  as  he 
may." 

5o  you  think  I  should  have  a  better  chance  of  escaping 
detection  dressed  as  a  gentleman  than  posing  as  a  gar- 
dener." 

"  Tnquestionably.  If  you  want  to  avoid  detection,  do 
nothing  to  attract  attention." 

••  In  that  case,  I  had  better  buy  myself  another  suit  of 
clothes." 

"I  should  certainly  advise  you  to  do  so.    Get  yourself  up 
as  a  bourgeois,  a  government  employ.'',  or  a  student — any- 
thing but  a  workman,      but  the  wisest  thing  you  can  do  for 
•  is  to  stay  where  you  are." 


HIDE-AND-SEEK  85 

"  In  this  room  ?" 

"  Where  else  ?  It  is  the  only  place  the  police  might  over- 
look in  the  event  of  a  domiciliary  visit,  and  you  must  not 
show  yourself  down-stairs  on  any  account.  If  they  were  to 
get  wind  that  I  had  a  visitor,  the  police  would  be  on  us  at 
once.  Besides,  you  look  quite  worn  out ;  two  or  three  days' 
rest  will  do  you  all  the  good  in  the  world." 

This  was  quite  true,  though  I  would  rather  have  had  a 
better  resting-place  than  a  cupboard.  However,  as  I  could 
not  gainsay  a  host  who  was  entertaining  me  at  the  risk  of 
his  life,  I  said  I  should  abide  by  his  advice,  and  he  on  his 
part  was  good  enough  to  say  that  he  would  pay  me  an  occa- 
sional visit  during  the  day,  and  the  next  time  he  came  bring 
me  some  books. 

After  he  was  gone  I  had  a  spell  of  sound  sleep,  and  on 
awaking  felt  much  better  in  body  and  more  composed  in 
mind.  I  could  now  think  consecutively  and  calmly,  and  the 
first  result  of  my  reflections  were  a  vivid  sense  of  the  diffi- 
culty of  escaping  from  the  dangers  by  which  I  was  menaced, 
and  a  decided  conviction  that  I  could  only  escape  them  by 
getting  out  of  Paris  as  quickly  as  might  be. 

On  the  other  hand,  it  was  madness  to  make  the  attempt 
for  the  present,  and  neither  then  nor  later  would  it  be  possi- 
ble to  leave  without  a  regular  passport.  And  where  and  how 
was  I  to  get  a  passport  ? 

Moreover,  I  had  very  little  money.  The  gold  pieces  left 
at  Courbevoie  were  either  gone,  stolen  by  the  sans-culottes, 
or  unavailable.  Without  money  I  could  neither  travel  nor 
pay  my  way  in  Paris  ;  and  as  neither  gendarmes  nor  patriots 
were  incorruptible,  a  few  louis,  discreetly  dispensed,  might 
remove  many  obstacles,  and  even  be  instrumental  in  saving 
my  life.  True,  I  could  draw  on  my  father ;  but  where  was 
the  banker  who  would  purchase  my  draft  and  keep  my  se- 
cret ? 


S6  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

And  there  was  something  else.  I  did  not  mean  to  leave 
Paris  without  taking  leave  of  Mademoiselle  de  la  Tour,  and 
seeing  whether  I  could  be  of  any  use  to  her.  She  had  laid 
me  under  an  obligation  which  it  behooved  me  to  make  an 
effort  to  redeem.  Moreover,  I  was  very  anxious  about  her. 
All  her  male  relatives  had  run  the  country — save  De  Lancy, 
and  he  was  under  a  ban — she  bore  a  hated  name,  and  now 
that  the  Jacobins  had  got  the  upper  hand,  it  was  likely  to  go 
ill  with  the  class  to  which  she  belonged. 

Yes,  I  must  see  Angelique  again.  It  were  base  to  quit 
Paris  without  repeating  my  thanks  and  offering  my  services. 
What  service,  in  my  then  predicament,  I  could  render  her, 
or  any  other  body,  I  did  not  stop  to  inquire.  If  I  had  been 
quite  frank  with  myself,  I  should  probably  have  said  I  must 
see  her  because  I  wanted  to  see  her. 

Schlessinger  was  as  good  as  his  word.  Between  twelve 
and  one  he  brought  me  a  substantial  second  breakfast,  to 
which,  having  recovered  my  appetite,  I  did  full  justice.  A 
healthy  organism  demands  its  due,  even  when  the  mind  is 
oppressed  with  care  ;  and  I  was  young  in  ninety-two. 

He  also  brought  me  some  books,  and  reported  that  all 
was  quiet  in  the  street. 

Recalling  his  strictures  on  my  workman's  costume,  I  in- 
quired whether  he  could  obtain  me  something  less  likely  to 
attract  attention. 

"  A  suit  of  bourgeois  ?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  a  suit  of  bourgeois,"  said  I. 

••  New,  or  second-hand  ?" 

Having  regard  for  the  slenderness  of  my  purse,  I  decided 
fur  second-hand,  and  requested  Schlessinger  to  get  me  at 
the  same  time  a  hat  to  match,  and  a  pair  of  common  spec- 
tacles. 

"Good !  I  will  try  to  manage  it  either  to-day  or  to-mor- 
row.    What  are  your  dimensions?  (measuring  me  with  his 


HIDE-AND-SEEK  87 

eye).  Height,  six  feet ;  chest  measurement,  forty  inches  ; 
girth,  thirty  two  or  three ;  square  shoulders,  longish  arms, 
medium  legs.  That  is  about  it,  I  think.  But  men  of  the 
bourgeois  class  don't  wear  mustaches.  I  am  afraid  you 
will  have  to  shave  yours."  Then,  seeing  that  I  hesitated, 
he  added  :  "  You  can  grow  another  pair  of  mustaches,  but 
you  would  find  it  difficult  to  grow  another  head."' 

The  argument  was  unanswerable.  I  consented — albeit, 
not  without  a  pang — to  make  the  sacrifice,  and  made  it 
within  the  hour,  using  for  the  purpose  one  of  my  host's 
razors.  He  visited  me  again  in  the  evening,  and  on  the 
day  following  brought  the  clothes.  They  were  of  the 
shabby-genteel  order,  which  Schlessinger  held  to  be  a  de- 
cided advantage,  also  the  fashion  and  fit,  which  were  sim- 
ply deplorable. 

"Well -fitting  clothes  are  the  exception,"  he  observed, 
gravely.  "  To  be  well-dressed  is  to  be  conspicuous  ;  the 
more  like  the  crowd  you  are  the  better." 

When  I  had  put  them  on,  and  donned  the  horn-rimmed 
spectacles  and  the  unobtrusive  hat,  which  he  had  been  good 
enough  to  buy  for  me,  I  hardly  knew  myself. 

"  This  is  capital !"  I  exclaimed.  "  Now  I  can  go  any- 
where without  risk  of  detection." 

"  I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,"  said  Schlessinger,  grimly. 
"  You  must  have  been  seen  by  thousands  when  you  were 
on  guard  at  the  palace  and  marching  about  Paris,  and  the 
police  don't  go  entirely  by  clothes ;  they  go  by  height,  com- 
plexion, and  other  physical  peculiarities.     Read  that !" 

"That "was  a  hand-bill  containing  a  minute  description 
of  my  person,  and  of  the  persons  of  my  brother-officers,  who 
were  being  hunted  like  myself.  It  even  made  mention  of 
a  too  conspicuous  mole  on  my  left  cheek,  and  a  slight  scar 
over  my  right  eyebrow,  and  suggested  that  I  had  probably 
shaved  off  my  mustache. 


83  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

'•  Where  did  you  get  it?"  I  asked,  in  dismay. 

"A  gendarme  left  it  an  hour  ago,  and  intimated  that  if 
I  saw  anybody  answering  to  any  of  these  descriptions  and 
failed  to  give  information  to  the  police,  it  would  go  hard 
with  me.  He  was  leaving  a  bill  with  every  concierge  in 
the  quarter.  I  am  not  popular  with  the  police,"  added 
Schlessinger ;  "most  Paris  conciergis  act  as  spies  for  them; 
I  won't.  And  as  my  late  master  commanded  the  Swiss  regi- 
ments of  the  Guard,  and  after  the  taking  of  the  Bastile  was 
tried  for  his  life  on  a  charge  of  high-treason  against  the 
nation,  and  I  also  am  a  Switzer — " 

"  I  understand.  The  house  is  '  suspect.'  You  regard 
the  call  as  a  warning,  and  expect  a  perquisition.  Not  for 
the  world  would  I  get  you  into  trouble.  I  must  go  at 
once." 

'•  Well,  I  think  you  had  better,  and  quite  as  much  in  your 
own  interest  as  mine.  You  would  be  the  first  victim.  But 
don't  go  before  dark,  if  you  please.  Were  it  reported  to  the 
police  that  a  stranger  was  seen  leaving  the  house,  1  might 
have  to  answer  some  awkward  questions,  and  if  you  are 
wise  you  will  shun  daylight." 

"As  you  think  best,  Monsieur  Schlessinger;  and  if  the 
Vicomte  calls — ]  mean  Monsieur  Boulanger — " 

*•  1  le  is  not  going  to  call.  Here  is  a  note  from  him,  ad- 
dressed to  me,  but  meant  for  you.     It  came  half  an  hour 

'lii.-  note  ran  as  follows: 

'"  I  am  hindered  by  unforeseen  circumstances  from  mak- 
ing   my   promised    visit,      but    if    your   friend.  M.   Anatole 
her,   wants    another   situation,  he   cannot    do   better 
than  apply  to  M.  de  Castellan,  whose  house  is  in  the  Rue 
Clery." 

•■  I  his  is  opportune,"  said  T.     "  It  means  that  Monsieur 
itellan  will  find  me  quarters." 


HIDE-AND-SEEK  89 

"Without  a  doubt.  Monsieur  de  Castellan  is  a  good 
man.  His  house  is  over  against  the  Hotel  de  Chatule.  You 
can  find  it  without  asking  questions  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  know  the  Rue  Clery.  I  wonder  what  the  unfore- 
seen circumstances  are.  I  hope  Dr.  Boulanger  has  not  been 
laid  by  the  heels." 

"  I  don't  think  so.  If  he  had  we  should  not  have  got 
that  note.  He  has  either  heard  what  a  hue-and-cry  there 
is  after  you,  and  thinks  that  calling  here  by  daylight  might 
endanger  all  concerned,  or  he  is  playing  hide-and-seek  on 
his  own  account.  I  hope  you  will  fall  into  no  danger  by 
the  way.  If  you  meet  a  patrol,  turn  into  a  by-street  or 
step  into  a  blind-alley.     Prevention  is  better  than  cure." 


CHAPTER    XIII 
MADAME    DUFOUR 

Schlessinger  put  his  head  out  of  the  wicket,  and  after 
looking  up  the  street  and  down  the  street,  and  listening 
intently,  turned  to  me  and  reported  that  all  was  quiet. 

••  You  may  go  now,"  said  he.  "Over  against  the  Hotel 
de  Chatule,  remember !  The  concierge  is  a  Switzer  and  a 
friend  of  mine.  Use  my  name  and  tell  him  who  you  are, 
and  he  will  be  yours  also.  I  wish  you  good-night,  and  good- 
luck  to  you,  meinherr" 

1  wrung  the  old  man's  hand,  thanked  him  warmly  for  his 
hospitality,  and  passed  through  the  wicket. 

Night  was  settling  over  the  city;  and  so  quiet  were  the 
streets,  and  the  few  wayfarers  whom  I  met  took  so  little 
notice  of  each  other  and  of  me,  that  I  jumped  somewhat 
hastily  to  the  conclusion  that  Schlessinger's  apprehensions 
were  either  baseless  or  exaggerated.  It  did  not  occur  to  me 
that  people  might  be  staying  at  home  because  they  were 
afraid  to  \<  nture  abroad,  and  that  those  whom  I  met  were 
ibly  no  less  anxious  to  escape  observation  than  1  was 
myself. 

There  were  two  ways  of  reaching  my  destination  :  by  the 

Royal  and  the  Galerie  du  Louvre,  ami  then  by  one  of 

iding  into  the  Rue  St.  Honore,  or  by  the  Pont 

Neuf  and  the  Rue  de  la  Monnaie.     I  had  intended  to  take 

the  latter  route;  but  when    I   got  to  the  end  of  the  Rue  du 

Bai  .   I    felt    a   strong  desire  to  revisit  the  scene  of  Sunday's 

dy.      At  Inst    I  resisted  the  impulse-  -  it    seemed  sheer 

madness,  but  reflecting  that  the  neighborhood  of  the  Tuile- 


MADAME   DUFOUR  9 I 

ries  was  the  very  last  place  in  Paris  where  the  most  sus- 
picious of  detectives  would  be  likely  to  look  for  an  officer 
of  the  Swiss  Guard,  I  crossed  the  Pont  Royal,  and  entered 
the  Carrousel  from  the  Louvre  Gallery. 

Here,  at  least,  was  no  lack  of  life  and  movement.  The 
place  was  thronged  with  sans-culottes,  and  worse  than  sans- 
culottes—the abandoned  of  both  sexes,  creatures  of  the  night, 
drawn  from  the  lowest  dregs  of  the  population,  who  had  taken 
part  in  the  plunder  of  the  palace  and  the  murder  and  muti- 
lation of  my  wounded  comrades,  and  were  now  celebrating 
their  victory. 

In  the  middle  of  the  square  blazed  a  huge  fire,  round 
which  danced  a  horde  of  half-naked  harpies,  howling  the 
"Carmagnole."  They  wore  Phrygian  caps,  their  bare  arms 
were  red  with  blood,  and  from  time  to  time  they  fed  the  fire 
with  what  at  a  distance  appeared  to  be  billets  of  wood,  but 
were  really,  as  I  too  soon  perceived,  the  butchered  remains 
of  their  victims. 

When  the  women  whirled  round,  raising  their  reddened 
arms  and  throwing  back  their  heads,  and  the  glare  of  the 
bonfire  lighted  up  their  fiendish  faces,  the  scene  could  be  lik- 
ened only  to  a  witches'  sabbath  or  a  dance  of  the  damned. 

Horror  held  me  enchained.  For  a  moment  or  two  I 
stood  still,  as  though  fascinated,  unwilling  to  witness  the 
dreadful  scene,  yet  unable  to  avert  my  gaze.  Then  I 
thought  to  turn  back  ,  but  quickly  realizing  that  any  show 
of  disgust  or  even  disapproval  on  my  part  would  entail  my 
destruction,  I  went  deliberately  forward,  threading  and 
shouldering  my  way  through  the  press,  and  when  the  mob 
shouted  "  Vive  la  Nation  !"  I  shouted  with  them.  For 
God  knows  I  had  nothing  against  the  nation ;  but  as  for 
those  brigands  and  cutthroats,  I  would  have  shot  them 
down  with  as  little  remorse  as  I  would  have  killed  so  many 
wolves. 


$2  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

With  some  difficulty,  and  slowly — any  appearance  of 
haste  might  have  attracted  unpleasant  attentions — I  made 
my  way  to  the  Rue  St.  Honore.  Here  the  crowd,  though 
less  dense,  was  of  the  same  stamp.  Not  until  I  reached  the 
obscurity  of  the  Rue  de  la  Touelerie  did  I  feel  myself  safe. 
Several  times  had  I  been  roughly  addressed  and  threatened 
by  those  whom  I  had  thrust  aside  ;  yet  by  dint  of  apologies 
and  soft  answers,  and,  once,  by  standing  the  price  of  a  drink, 
I  got  through,  unsuspected  and  unscathed.  But  just  as  I 
was  rejoicing  over  my  good-luck  (better  than  my  rashness 
deserved),  and  thinking  that  I  should  reach  my  destination 
without  further  trouble,  I  heard  a  cry  of  distress  and  a  call 
for  help. 

Looking  forward  with  eyes  now  accustomed  to  the  semi- 
darkness  of  the  summer  night,  I  perceived  at  the  corner  of 
the  Rue  Artois  the  dimly-defined  figures  of  two  men  and  a 
woman. 

"Help!  Unhand  me!  Let  me  go!"  cried  the  last. 
"  Robbers  !     Help  !" 

I  had  no  desire  to  court  an  adventure  or  run  gratuitous 
risks;  but  as  it  was  impossible  to  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  a 
woman's  appeal  for  help  (though,  considering  the  place  and 
the  hour,  the  woman  might  be  no  better  than  she  should  be), 
I  hurried  to  the  spot. 

The  two  men,  both  sans-culottes,  had  hold  of  the  woman 
(who  was  veiled,  and.  so  far  as  I  could  see,  well  dressed)  by 
the  wrists,  and  were  dragging  her  along. 

"Oh,  monsieur,  deliver  me  from  these  villains!  They 
have  insulted  me.     They  are  Inn  ting  me,  they  wanted—" 

"  Hold  your  noise,  or  I'll  hit  you  in  the  mouth  !"  growled 
one  of  the  brutes.     "Come  along!" 

"Why  have  you  arrested  this  lady?  What  has  she 
I  :i  iked. 

"You  mind  your  own  business.     Come  along,  I  sayl" 


MADAME    DUFOUR  93 

"  My  business  is  to  know  why  you  have  arrested  this 
lady." 

"  She  is  a  ci-devant1'  (ex-aristocrat),  "and  we  are  taking 
her  to  the  police-station." 

"  It  is  not  true,"  said  the  woman,  excitedly.  "  I  was  go- 
ing quietly  along.  They  stopped  me  and  demanded  money, 
and  because  1  could  give  them  none,  not  having  brought  my 
purse,  they  arrested  me." 

"  Let  her  go,"  I  said,  quietly. 

"  We  will  let  daylight  into  you,  if  you  don't  stand 
aside." 

I  had  already  decided  what  to  do.  To  use  my  pistols 
would  be  dangerous,  hardly  less  so  to  use  my  dagger,  for 
unless  I  killed  both  the  fellows  at  a  stroke  the  survivor 
would  make  a  noise  and  bring  a  police  patrol  on  the  scene 
before  I  could  get  out  of  the  way.  On  the  other  hand,  as 
both  were  in  liquor  and  undersized  I  did  not  regard  them  as 
formidable  antagonists,  despite  the  pikes  and  sabres  with 
which  they  were  weaponed. 

"  Let  her  go,"  I  repeated. 

"Out  of  the  way,  or pardieu  I'll — "  lowering  bis  pike. 

Retreating  a  step  as  though  yielding  to  the  threat,  I  put 
myself  in  boxing  attitude  and,  quick  as  thought,  gave  the 
fellow  a  blow  between  the  eyes,  delivered  straight  from  the 
shoulder  and  with  a  will.  Down  he  went  like  a  felled  ox, 
and  before  his  companion  could  recover  from  his  surprise  I 
served  him  in  like  fashion.  "  They  are  both  hors  de  combat 
for  a  few  minutes,"  quoth  I  to  the  lady.  "  Do  you  live  far 
from  here  ?  Shall  I  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  home  ?" 
offering  my  arm. 

"Thanks,  monsieur,  a  thousand  thanks!  I  live  in  the 
Rue  St.  Denis.  Let  us  go  quickly,  please,"  she  said,  ex- 
citedly and  half  sobbing.  "  It  may  seem  strange  that  I  am 
out  so  late  and  without  an  escort.    But  I  have  been  to  see  a 


94  FOR    Honor    AND    LIFE 

dear  friend  who  is  sick  and  like  to  die.  My  husband  could 
not  come  with  me,  and  my  maid  was  afraid.  Besides,  she  is 
such  a  timid  creature  that  she  would  have  been  of  no  use. 
Those  horrid  men  !  But  for  you  I  should  have  been  locked 
up,  in  what  company  Heaven  only  knows." 

A  short  walk  brought  us  to  the  Rue  St.  Denis,  where  the 
lady  presently  pointed  out  as  her  home  a  house  with  closed 
shutters  which  looked  like  a  shop. 

"  In  that  case,  madame,  you  will  permit  me  to  wish  you 
good-evening,"  said  I. 

"Oh,  you  will  surely  come  in  and  let  my  husband  thank 
you  for  the  great  service  you  have  rendered  me." 

I  hesitated  for  a  moment,  but,  curiosity  getting  the  better 
of  discretion,  I  bowed  assent,  whereupon  the  lady  opened  a 
side-door  with  a  latch-key,  and  I  followed  her  into  the 
house  and  up  a  narrow,  dimly  lighted  staircase,  which, 
rather  to  my  surprise,  terminated  in  a  spacious,  well-lighted 
gallery  adorned  with  paintings  and  bright  with  flowers. 

The  lady  drew  aside  a  portiere  and  opened  a  door. 

" Allons^  she  said  softly,  and  the  next  moment  we  were 
in  a  handsomely  furnished  room,  where  sat  a  gentleman  in  a 
gorgeous  dressing-gown  and  an  easy  chair,  with  his  foot  on 
a  rest.  His  features  were  Hebraic,  his  eyes  dark  and  shrewd, 
and  he  was  probably  some  thirty  years  old. 

At  the  sight  of  me  he  looked  more  than  surprised  and 
ed  inquiringly  at  his  wife,  a  fair  young  woman  with 
violet  eyes  and  brown  hair. 

"  This  gentleman  has  done  me  a  great  service,  Adolphe," 
said  she.  "  Rescued  me  from  two  half-tipsy  sans-culottes, 
who,  as  I  hid  no  money  to  give  them,  charged  me  with  be- 
ing  a  ci-devant^  and  in  spite  of  my  cries  and  protests  were 
;ing  me  off  to  the  police-station  when  this  gentleman 
'.od  enough  to  knock  them  down  with  his  list,  one  after 
the  other.      He  must  have  arms  like  sledge-hammers.     And 


MADAME   DUFOUR  95 

then  he  kindly  escorted  me  hither,  and  I  have  asked  him  in 
to  be  thanked  by  you." 

"  In  rendering  Madame  Dufour  this  service  you  have 
made  me  your  debtor,  and  I  thank  you  warmly,"  said  the 
man  of  the  house,  politely.  "  Excuse  me  for  not  rising;  for 
the  moment  I  am  a  cripple,"  glancing  at  his  leg.  "  These 
sans-culottes  are  triple  brutes.  Did  you  tell  them  who  you 
were,  Berthe  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  did.  But  it  was  of  no  use.  They  pro- 
tested that  I  was  a  ci-devant,  and  if  this  gentleman  had 
not  come  so  promptly  to  the  rescue — " 

"You  would  have  been  locked  up  all  night  in  a  filthy 
cell.  I  shudder  at  the  mere  thought.  But  I  beg  you  a 
thousand  pardons,  monsieur — I  have  not  introduced  myself  : 
Adolphe  Dufour,  goldsmith  and  money-changer,  at  your 
service." 

"My  name  is  Anatole  Boucher,"  said  I. 

"  It  gives  me  great  pleasure  to  make  your  acquaintance, 
Monsieur  Boucher.  I  have  also  the  honor  of  being  a  captain 
in  the  National  Guard  and  president  of  my  section,  and  an- 
other honor  with  which  I  would  have  gladly  dispensed — 
that  of  a  wound,  happily  not  very  serious,  received  during 
the  attack  on  the  Tuileries.  The  last  volley  fired  by  those 
infernal  Swiss." 

This  was  bad  hearing.  I  was  in  the  enemy's  camp,  and 
though  I  had  nothing  to  fear  from  the  lame  gentleman  in 
the  easy-chair,  prudence  suggested  that  it  were  well  to  take 
my  leave. 

"  You  will  surely  stop  and  take  supper  with  us,"  exclaimed 
M.  Dufour  as  I  rose  from  my  chair. 

"  Impossible,  monsieur,  I  have  an  engagement." 

"  At  least  you  will  drink  a  glass  of  wine  with  my  husband," 
put  in  the  lady.     "  I  shall  take  it  very  unkindly  if  you  don't." 

Fearing  that  to  refuse  the  invitation  might  provoke  sus- 


g6  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

picion,  I  resumed  my  seat,  and   Mine.  Dufour  brought  a 
decanter  and  glasses  from  the  cupboard. 

'•  I  hope  we  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  again," 
said  my  host,  raising  his  glass  and  eying  me  keenly.  "  And 
if  you  will  favor  me  with  your  address  I  shall  do  myself  the 
honor  of  calling  upon  you." 

Not  being  prepared  with  an  answer,  I  merely  bowed. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  I  fear  I  have  asked  an  indiscreet 
question,"  continued  M.  Dufour  after  a  short  pause.  "These 
are  strange  times — and  I  don't  think  you  are  what  you  seem." 

••  Tray  what  do  you  take  me  for,  monsieur  ?"  I  demanded 
angrily,  for  the  remark  was  an  impertinence. 

"  judging  by  your  attire,  a  notary's  clerk  or  shopkeeper's 
assistant;  but  judging  by  your  face  and  bearing  and  the 
ous  way  in  which  you  dealt  with  those  two  ruffians,  I 
should  say  you  have  served — " 

•And  if  1  have,  what—" 

•■  Precisely.  What  is  it  to  me  ?  This.  Though  a  patriot, 
I  am  no  fanatic.  I  am  for  universal  brotherhood,  and  have 
absolutely  no  prejudices.  I  make  a  specialty  of  toleration, 
and  war  only  against  opinion." 

'•  Were  you  acting  in  this  spirit  when  you  got  your  wound  ?" 

••  Perfectly.  The  Swiss  Guard  were  of  opinion  that  the 
monarchy  should  be  upheld,  we  patriots  were  of  opinion 
that  it  should  be  overthrown.  But  now  that  the  fight  is 
over,  we  can  afford  to  be  magnanimous." 

•■  And  you  show  your  magnanimity  by  murdering  and  mu- 
tilating your  prisoners,"  I  broke  in  impulsively  and,  as  I 
lit  the  next  moment,  with  more  frankness  than  wisdom. 

"  Ves,  that  is  deplorable,  I  admit.     But  there  are  always 
Minus,  and  though  the  people,  when  left  to  thems< 
are  good,  they  sometimes  yield  to  impulse  when  they  should 
lided  by  reason.    What  is  that,  Berthe — a  knock  at  the 
door?     My  faith,  suppose  it  is  Serin  !" 


MADAME    DUFOUR  97 

"  I  am  afraid  it  is  Serin.     He  often  calls  about  this  time." 

"  Serin,  Monsieur  Boucher,  is  a  passionate  patriot  and  a 
member  of  the  National  Assembly  and  the  Jacobin  Club, 
also  very  sharp  and  curious ;  and  if  he  were  to  suspect, 
what  we  suspect,  it  might  be  very  unpleasant  for  all  of  us. 
Would  you  mind — ?  There!  he  is  knocking  again.  Jean- 
nette  must  let  him  in.  Berthe,  take  Monsieur  Boucher  into 
the  other  passage.  If  it  prove  to  be  Serin  I  shall  sneeze, 
and  you  can  let  monsieur  out  at  the  back.  Another  time, 
I  hope—" 

"  Quick !  This  way !"  interrupted  Mme.  Dufour,  anx- 
iously, opening  a  door  at  the  other  end  of  the  room. 

I  followed  her,  in  some  amusement  at  the  bold  captain's 
trepidation,  and  we  stood  at  attention  in  the  passage. 

Presently  the  danger  signal  went  off.  Defour  sneezed 
loudly  enough  to  be  heard  in  the  next  street. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  must  go,"  whispered  Mme.  Dufour. 
"Al/onsl" 

We  went  to  the  end  of  the  passage,  then  down  a  flight  of 
stairs,  next  along  another  passage  until  we  came  to  a  door, 
which  she  unbolted,  and,  holding  it  ajar,  observed  in  an 
emphatic  undertone  that  Serin  was  a  miserable. 

"But,"  she  added,  "he  is  powerful,  and  when  crossed, 
dangerous.  Otherwise  I  would  not  let  him  darken  my 
door.  My  husband,  though  he  has  taken  the  revolutionary 
fever  rather  badly  and  is  too  much  disposed  to  swim  with 
the  stream,  is  good,  and  will  serve  you  if  he  can.  In  fact, 
I  shall  make  him — for  at  heart  I  am  a  royalist — like  your- 
self." 

"  How— what  ?" 

"  I  am  sure  you  are,  also  that  Boucher  is  an  alias.  I 
think,  from  Adolphe's  manner,  that  he  has  seen  you  before. 
I  shall  make  him  tell  me.  If  you  are  in  need  of  a  tempo- 
rary asylum,  don't  fail  to  come  hither.  One  good  turn  de- 
7 


9S  FOR    HONOR    AXD    LIFE 

serves  another.  And  now  you  must  permit  me  to  return  to 
the  salon,  or  that  miserable  will  be  curious.  He  is  simply 
made  up  of  curiosity  and  suspicion.  This  is  a  back  street. 
Take  the  first  turn  to  the  right,  and  you  will  find  yourself 
once  more  in  the  Rue  St.  Denis.  Be  sure  you  come  again. 
Au  revoir." 


CHAPTER   XIV 
THE   VICOMTE'S    PROPOSAL 

"  So  much  for  my  disguise,"  I  thought  while  wending 
towards  the  Rue  Clery.  "  Detected  at  the  first  inspection  ! 
I  do  believe  that  this  confounded  Dufour  recognized  me  as 
an  officer  of  the  regiment.  What  a  fool  I  was  to  go  in  !  I 
am  glad  I  gave  him  no  inkling  whither  I  was  going,  for 
though  he  spoke  fairly,  a  patriot  who  consorts  with  mem- 
bers of  the  Jacobin  Club  is  not  to  be  trusted.  Madame  is 
a  nice  woman,  good-looking,  too,  and  I  dare  say  would  be 
as  good  as  her  word.  ...  I  must  clear  out  of  Paris  before 
anybody  else  recognizes  me — after  I  have  seen  Angelique. 
I  hope  no  harm  has  befallen  her.  I  dare  say  the  vicomte 
knows.  But  where  is  he  ?  .  .  .  Hello !  What  is  that  ? 
Another  police  patrol." 

And  as  the  police  were  gentlemen  whom  I  had  no  desire 
to  meet,  I  stepped  into  a  dark  entry  until  they  were  out  of 
sight  and  hearing. 

I  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  M.  de  Castellan's  house,  and 
the  Swiss  concierge,  to  whom  I  made  myself  known  and  deliv- 
ered Schlessinger's  message,  showed  me  into  a  salon  where 
I  was  presently  joined  by  his  master,  a  fine-looking  middle- 
aged  gentleman  with  a  kindly  face  and  a  winning  manner. 

After  congratulating  me  on  my  escape,  of  which  he  had 
heard  from  the  vicomte,  M.  de  Castellan  asked  me  divers 
questions  as  touching  what  had  befallen  me  during  the  pre- 
vious twenty-four  hours.  When  I  told  him  of  my  latest  ad- 
venture and  my  call  at  the  house  of  M.  Dufour,  he  looked 
very  grave,  saying  that  I  had  run  a  terrible  risk.     Of  Du- 


IOO  I  OR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

four  he  knew  nothing,  but  of  Serin  too  much.  He  was  one 
of  the  most  violent  and  truculent  members  of  the  Jacobin 
Club  and  the  "  insurrectionary  Commune." 

"  If  he  had  come  in  before  you  left  he  would  almost  cer- 
tainly have  had  you  arrested,  and  probably  the  Dufours 
also,"  observed  M.  de  Castellan. 

"  I  should  not  have  surrendered  without  a  struggle,  sir," 
said  I.  "  I  am  armed  as  you  see,"  opening  my  coat  and 
showing  my  pistols  and  dagger. 

"  You  would  have  been  quite  right.  If  they  try  to  arrest 
you  resist  to  the  death,  for  if  you  are  taken  they  will  have 
your  life.  But  I  hope  you  will  not  be  arrested,  and  I  shall 
do  my  best  to  prevent  any  such  misfortune.  I  will  find  you 
a  hiding-place,  and  you  must  stay  there  until  the  storm  lias 
blown  over." 

After  heartily  thanking  M.  de  Castellan  for  his  friendly 
reception,  I  suggested  that  my  wisest  course  would  be  to 
quit  Paris  without  delay.  It  was  terrible  to  think  that  I 
could  not  accept  a  friend's  hospitality  without  hazarding 
his  liberty,  possibly  his  life. 

To  which  he  answered  that  quitting  Paris  was  an  impos- 
sibility. All  the  barriers  were  closed,  and  nobody  was  al- 
lowed to  pass  out  on  any  pretext  whatever.  Moreover,  the 
National  Assembly  had  just  made  a  law  authorizing  gen- 
darmes and  '"active  citizens"  to  arrest,  on  their  own  re- 
sponsibility, whomsoever  they  might  suspect  of  " incivisme" 
which  meant  sympathy  with  the  nation's  enemies  or  disaf- 
fection to  the  new  government. 

"Only  members  of  the  National  Assembly,  the  Paris 
Commune,  and  the  Jacobin  Club  are  safe,"  added  M.  de 
Castellan.  "I  thought  a  revolution  necessary,  and  at  the 
outset  gave  it  my  support ;  but  the  present  government  is 
tyrannical  than  that  of  Louis  XVI.,  and  I  know  not 
what  will  be  the  end." 


THE    VTCOMTES    PROPOSAL  IOI 

He  feared  that  I  was  the  sole  survivor  of  the  second  col- 
umn, though  a  rumor  had  reached  his  ears  that  two  or  three 
of  the  fugitives  had  found  a  refuge  in  the  cellars  of  the 
Ministry  of  Marine,  and,  with  the  connivance  of  friends,  who 
supplied  them  with  plain  clothes,  got  safely  away.  But  be- 
ing private  soldiers  and  unidentified  they  were  less  eagerly 
sought  after  than  I  was.  Moreover,  my  escape  and  the  way 
in  which  I  had  served  their  brigadier  had  greatly  incensed 
the  gendarmes,  and  they  were  moving  heaven  and  earth  to 
effect  my  capture. 

"  I  shall  give  you  a  little  room  at  the  top  of  the  house," 
said  M.  de  Castellan,  "  and  there  you  must  stay  for  a  few 
days,  perhaps  for  a  few  weeks.  It  will  be  wearisome,  no 
doubt,  yet  better  than  the  Conciergerie  and  the  scaffold." 

This  there  was  no  gainsaying.  My  latest  experience 
showed  me  that  how  cunningly  soever  I  might  disguise 
myself  I  could  not  appear  outside  without  risk,  and,  having 
no  desire  to  lose  either  my  liberty  or  my  head,  I  made  up 
my  mind  to  lie  perdu  in  my  host's  little  room  until  it  should 
be  safe  for  me  to  shift  my  quarters  and  quit  the  country. 

I  should  probably  see  the  vicomte  in  a  few  days,  said 
M.  de  Castellan,  in  answer  to  my  inquiries  about  him.  He 
was  keeping  quiet,  rather  to  avoid  being  suspected  than 
because  he  was  in  any  immediate  danger.  The  police  be- 
lieved that  he  had  left  the  city,  and  it  was  a  belief  which 
he  was  desirous  not  to  disturb. 

At  this  point  our  conversation  was  interrupted  by  Lang- 
bein,  the  Swiss  porter,  who  informed  his  master  that  M. 
Monval  wished  to  see  him. 

"  Show  Monsieur  Monval  in,"  said  M.  de  Castellan. 
Then,  turning  to  me,  "  I  think  you  had  better  slip  behind 
that  screen." 

I  bowed  and  obeyed.  The  visitor  stayed  half  an  hour. 
I  tried  not  to  listen  to  their  conversation,  and  succeeded  so 


102  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

well  (having  much  on  my  mind)  that  only  a  few  disjointed 
scraps  of  it  reached  my  understanding. 

When  the  gentleman  was  gone  my  host  called  me  forth. 

'•  Monval  is  trustworthy  and  discreet,  and  would  not  have 
betrayed  us,"  said  he.  "  But  he  is  also  old  and  timid,  and 
I  thought  you  had  better  not  meet.  For  if  it  should  ever 
come  out  that  he  had  met,  and  not  denounced,  a  fugitive 
officer  of  the  Swiss  Guard,  he  would  get  into  trouble." 

"  And  yet  you  receive  me  as  your  guest  ?" 

"  Deliberately,  and  with  my  eyes  open  to  the  possible 
consequences.  But  that  is  no  reason  why  I  should  let  a 
third  person  compromise  himself  unwittingly.  Besides,  I 
am  Swiss  by  origin  and  connection,  which  Monval  is  not, 
and  I  regard  it  as  the  duty  and  privilege  of  a  Christian 
gentleman  to  do  to  others  as  he  would  that  they  should  do 
to  him,  even  at  the  peril  of  his  life.  Who  knows  that  be- 
fore long  I  may  not  have  to  ask  from  some  kind  soul  the 
same  help  I  am  now  giving  you  ?" 

And  then  M.  de  Castellan  himself  took  me  to  my  room. 
Like  the  chamber  I  had  occupied  at  Mine,  de  Be'senval's 
house,  it  was  under  the  tiles,  though  larger  and  more  com- 
modious, and  outside  was  a  corridor  where  I  could  take 
walking  exercise  when  the  servants  were  having  their  meals, 
only  my  host  and  Langbein  being  in  the  secret. 

In  the  morning  Langbein  brought  my  breakfast,  also 
some  books  and  papers  wherewith  to  beguile  my  seclusion. 
Among  the  papers,  to  my  great  delight,  was  a  copy  of  the 
Times  not  more  than  a  fortnight  old. 

Before  Langbein  went  away  he  called  my  attention  to  an 

head  trap-door  which  gave  access  to  the  roof,  and  sug- 

'1  that,  in  the  event  of  a  sudden  intrusion  of  the  police, 

uresl  hiding-place  would  be  among  the  chimney-stacks 

on  the  side  farthest  from  the  front  entrance. 

I  remained  in  my  quarters  several  days,  whiling  away  the 


THE    VICOMTE  S    PROPOSAL  IOJ 

time  as  best  I  could.  When  I  grew  tired  of  reading  and 
lying  in  bed  (and  I  did  a  good  deal  of  the  latter,  faute  de 
mieux),  I  would  look  through  the  window,  which,  as  it  was 
little  bigger  than  my  head  and  over  against  the  opening 
into  the  Rue  de  Bourbon  and  very  high  up,  I  could  do 
without  being  observed. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  week  came  the  vicomte,  to  my 
great  satisfaction.  I  was  dying  both  for  news  and  com- 
pany, especially  news  of  Angelique.  He  said  she  was  in 
fair  health  and  of  good  courage,  but  her  mother's  health 
did  not  improve,  and  so  long  as  they  remained  in  Paris 
was  not  likely  to  improve  •  but  as  Mme.  de  la  Tour  was 
too  much  of  an  invalid  to  travel,  leaving  it  was,  as  yet,  out 
of  the  question,  even  though  they  could  obtain  passports, 
which  was  doubtful. 

Then  he  explained  that  although  he  had  been  in  hiding 
he  had  not  been  inactive,  and  that  the  plot  for  the  rescue 
of  the  royal  family  was  making  good  progress,  and  he  in- 
vited me  to  lend  him  a  helping  hand— in  other  words,  to 
join  in  the  conspiracy.  On  which  I  laughed  and  asked  him 
how  I  could  help  to  rescue  anybody.  I  needed  rescuing 
myself. 

"You  can  do  nothing  in  Paris,  of  course,  while  there  is 
this  hue-and-cry  after  you,"  said  he.  "  But  once  you  are 
out  of  Paris — " 

"That  is  precisely  where  I  want  to  be,  but  how  am  I  to 
get  out  ?" 

"  I  think  you  may — in  a  few  days.  The  barriers  are 
again  open,  and  though  the  new  regulations  about  pass- 
ports are  very  stringent — none  being  granted  except  on  a 
personal  application,  supported  by  two  well-known  citizens 
of  approved  patriotism — I  hope  to  get  you  one.  Not  on 
your  personal  application,  of  course." 

"  Whose  then  ?" 


104  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

"  We  shall  see.  Even  patriots  have  their  price,  and  with 
money  everything  is  possible." 

"  Unfortunately  I  have  no  money,  or  next  to  pone.  Save 
five  louis,  of  which  I  have  spent  three,  I  left  all  my  cash  at 
the  barracks,  and  you  cannot  do  much  bribing  with  two 
louis." 

"  I  have  some,  but  I  shall  need  it  all.  It  will  take  many 
golden  keys  to  open  the  Temple.     Is  there  no  way?" 

"  If  I  could  only  sell  a  draft  on  my  father — " 

And  then  I  bethought  me  of  Dufour,  "jeweller  and  money- 
changer," and  told  Boulanger  of  my  adventure  of  the  pre- 
vious week  and  my  encounter  with  the  gentleman  in  ques- 
tion. 

"The  very  thing,"  he  exclaimed,  delightedly.  "From 
what  you  say  I  take  it  that  Monsieur  Dufour  is  a  decent 
fellow.  You  have  placed  him  under  an  obligation.  He  will 
certainly  buy  your  draft  on  monsieur,  your  father." 

•'  But  I  should  have  to  put  myself  in  his  power  by  telling 
him  my  name,  and  I  am  not  sure — " 

••  you  would  not  need  to  give  him  your  address,  and  as  I 
shall  act  as  intermediary  he  will  know  little  more  than  he 
knows  already." 

••  You  would  see  him  then  ?" 

"Yes." 

"  When  ?" 

"At  once.     He  lives  in  the  Rue  St.  Denis,  you  say?" 

"Yes,  hard  by  St.  Sauvcur.  but  I  should  advise  you  to 
have  a  word  with  Madame  Dufour  before  you  speak  to  her 
husband.  She  is  a  royalist  at  heart,  and,  unless  I  am  much 
mistaken,  rules  the  roost." 

'•  Is  she  good-looking?" 

"Decidedly,  and.  I  think,  well  disposed  towards  me." 

"  (  'f  i  ourse.      I  low  much  can  you  draw  for?" 

"  Anything  in  reason.    Say.  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds 


THE   VICOMTE'S    PROPOSAL  105 

sterling,  and  you  may  tell  Monsieur  Dufour  that  the  firm  of 
Frederic  Astor  &  Co.  is  of  high  repute,  both  in  Manchester 
and  London,  and  their  paper  second  to  none.  I  suppose  I 
am  to  understand  that  the  passport  is  conditional  on  my 
participation  in  your  enterprise." 

"  Not  so  far  as  I  am  concerned.  I  should  be  only  too 
glad  to  get  you  a  passport  in  any  case — if  I  could.  But 
circumstances  over  which  I  have  no  control  compel  me  to 
work  through  friends  who,  though  royalists  at  heart,  like 
your  friend  Madame  Dufour,  pose  as  patriots,  and  would 
naturally  do  more  for  a  fellow-conspirator  than  for  a  mere 
friend.    You  understand  ?" 

"  Perfectly,"  I  said,  though  I  had  a  shrewd  suspicion 
that  my  friend  was  stretching  a  point  in  order  to  gain  his 
own  ends.  "  And  now  tell  me  what  part  I  am  expected  to 
play  in  the  plot." 

On  this  the  vicomte  went  minutely  into  the  details,  which 
I  need  not  repeat  here  any  further  than  to  say  that  the  idea 
was  to  smuggle  the  royal  family  out  of  the  Temple  (with 
the  connivance  of  friends  inside)  some  evening  after  dark, 
then  out  of  Paris  in  a  market-cart  driven  by  one  of  the 
conspirators.  As  the  fugitives  were  to  be  hidden  under 
litter  and  empty  sacks,  passports  would  be  unnecessary,  and 
recognition,  barring  accidents,  impossible. 

At  St.  Denis,  or  some  other  place  near  Paris,  the  royal  fugi- 
tives were  to  be  transferred  to  carriages  drawn  by  swift  horses, 
and  once  at  Rouen  they  would  be  in  comparative  safety. 

My  share  in  the  business  was  to  proceed  thither  when 
the  time  came,  and  arrange  with  the  king's  friends  for  his 
reception;  also  for  his  further  journey  to  Dieppe  and  Eng- 
land, whither  I  was  to  accompany  him. 

This  done,  it  would  be  my  duty  to  return  to  St.  Denis  and 
take  command  of  a  party  of  ardent  young  royalists  who  had 
volunteered  to  escort  the  royal  family  to  the  coast. 


106  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

I  told  the  vicomte  frankly  that  I  did  not  augur  well  of 
his  scheme.  It  seemed  to  me  altogether  too  hazardous 
and  complicated. 

"  Oh,  don't  think  I  have  any  illusions,"  he  answered. 
"  It  is  the  curse  of  conspiracies  that  if  you  are  few  you  can 
do  nothing,  whereas  if  you  are  many  you  risk  betrayal, 
either  by  indiscretion  or  intention.  But  I  see  no  other  way. 
It  is  impossible  to  get  their  majesties  out  of  the  Temple 
and  land  them  in  England  without  risk  of  a  miscarriage. 
Nevertheless  the  attempt  is  worth  making.  At  the  worst, 
they  can  only  die,  and  if  they  stay  where  they  are  their  days 
will  not  be  long.     I  suppose  we  can  count  on  you  ?" 

"  Certainly.  I  have  no  great  regard  for  the  king,  and  he 
is  not  my  king,  but  I  would  do  anything  for  the  queen  and 
those  poor  children." 

"Good  !  As  you  promise  me  your  help  I  shall  not  quar- 
rel with  your  motives.  Now  I  must  go  and  do  my  errand. 
Expect  me  back  when  you  see  me.  The  Dufours  may  not 
be  at  home.     But  I  shall  return  as  soon  as  possible." 

He  returned  in  little  over  an  hour,  with  a  face  that  pro- 
claimed success. 

'•  It  is  a  thing  done,  thanks  to  Madame  Dufour,"  he  said. 
"You  were  quite  right  in  believing  that  you  had  made  a 
favorable  impression.  She  thinks  you  are  a  hero  satis  peur 
et  sans  tac/ie,  and,  my  faith,  I  am  disposed  to  agree  with 
her." 

"Don't  talk  nonsense,  if  you  please,  vicomte." 

"  Nonsense  !  I  was  never  more  serious  in  my  life.  With- 
out the  lady's  help  my  mission  would  have  proved  a  failure, 
and  if  1  had  not  invoked  your  name  —  however,  to  the 
point.  Thanks  to  his  wife's  insistence,  Monsieur  Dufour 
'■.ill  buy  your  draft  on  the  highly  respei  table  house  of  Fred- 
eric Astor  &  Co.  But  he  is  a  true  bourgeois,  timid  and 
B      iness  was  business,  !>'•  said,  and,  considering 


THE   VICOMTE'S    PROPOSAL  I07 

the  risk,  he  could  only  give  for  a  draft  of  two  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds  the  equivalent  of  two  hundred  and  twenty-five 
pounds,  half  in  coin,  half  in  assignats  "  (depreciated  paper 
money)  "  at  a  discount  of  fifty  per  cent." 

"  Well,  I  don't  think  I  can  object  to  that,  considering 
that  if  he  were  found  out  the  penalty  would  be  death." 

"No  fear !  Monsieur  Dufour  is  far  too  wide  awake  to  be 
found  out.  Here  are  the  drafts  in  duplicate.  All  you  have 
to  do  is  to  sign  the  draft,  and  write  a  line  of  advice  to  Fred- 
eric Astor  &  Co." 

"But  won't  that  be  dangerous  ?     The  post-office—" 

"  Will  know  nothing  about  it.  The  letter,  as  also  the 
draft,  will  be  sent  under  cover  to  Monsieur  Dufour's  corre- 
spondents in  London.  Moreover,  to  make  assurance  doubly 
sure,  the  packet  will  be  posted  by  a  trusty  messenger  at 
some  place  outside  Paris.  And  I  must  do  Monsieur  Dufour 
the  justice  to  say  that  he  is  a  good  paymaster.  The  moment 
you  have  signed  the  draft  the  money  will  be  at  your  dis- 
posal.    Shall  I  fetch  it  for  you?" 

"Thank  you.     By  all  means." 

And  then  I  set  my  name  to  the  documents,  and  wrote  the 
letter  of  advice,  adding  by  way  of  postscript  a  few  words 
informing  my  father  that  I  was  still  at  liberty,  though  in  hid- 
ing, and  that  I  hoped,  with  the  help  of  the  proceeds  of  the 
draft,  to  escape  from  Paris  and  make  my  way  to  London 
in  the  course  of  a  few  days  or  weeks,  as  fortune  might 
favor  me.  This  clone,  the  vicomte  put  the  papers  in  his 
pocket  and  departed  on  his  second  errand,  promising  to 
return  as  quickly  as  might  be. 

By  this  time  it  was  nearly  night,  to  my  great  content,  for 
I  feared  these  continual  comings  and  goings  might  provoke 
suspicion  and  lead  to  trouble. 

When  the  vicomte  was  gone  I  went  to  the  window  and 
watched  the  people  below,  as  they  moved  about  silent  and 


IOS  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

ghost-like  in  the  fast-deepening  twilight,  amusing  myself  by 
noting  the  peculiarities  of  their  gait,  and  the  differences  in 
their  stature  and  appearance,  and  weaving  vagrant  fancies 
as  to  whence  they  came,  whither  they  were  going,  and  what 
they  did. 

Suddenly,  as  by  common  consent,  these  wayfarers  dis- 
appear. Some  go  one  way,  some  another,  and  the  end  of 
the  Rue  de  Bourbon,  which  is  all  I  can  see,  becomes  a  lone- 
some waste.  At  the  same  moment  there  falls  on  my  ear 
the  tramp  of  an  approaching  patrol.  In  those  clays  people 
were  nearly  as  much  afraid  of  a  patrol  as  of  a  mob. 

When  the  detachment  came  opposite  the  house  I  heard  a 
shout,  followed  by  the  word  "Halt!"  Then  I  thought  I 
could  distinguish  the  grounding  of  arms  and  a  ring  of  steel, 
as  when  soldiers  fix  bayonets. 

I  was  wondering  what  all  this  might  portend  —  for  short 
of  putting  my  head  completely  out  of  the  window  (which 
would  have  been  dangerous)  I  could  not  see  what  was  pass- 
ing directly  beneath  it — when  my  door  suddenly  opened  and 
Langbein  appeared  at  the  threshold. 

"A  domiciliary  visit,  Herr  Astor !"'  he  exclaimed,  excited- 
ly.    "Quick  !    Out  on  the  roof  as  you  value  your  life.-' 


CHAPTER    XV 
THE    INCIDENT   OF   THE    FLOWER-POT 

Langbein  departed  as  abruptly  as  he  had  come,  and  be- 
fore the  sound  of  his  retreating  footsteps  had  died  away  I 
was  on  the  house-top,  making  for  the  chimney-stacks.  The 
roof  being  long  and  steep,  and  slippery  with  recent  rain, 
this  was  no  easy  task.  I  had  to  crawl,  slowly  and  painfully, 
on  my  hands  and  knees.  Though  night  was  falling,  and 
the  street  so  narrow  and  the  house  so  high  that  I  ran  little 
risk  of  being  seen  from  below,  it  was  possible  that  some 
gendarme  of  exceptionally  keen  vision  might  catch  a  glimpse 
of  me;  wherefore  I  clung  closely  to  the  tiles,  and  effaced 
myself  as  much  as  might  be. 

At  length  I  reached  the  ridge,  and  sat  down  on  it.  under 
the  shadow  of  a  big  chimney-stack. 

After  resting  a  few  minutes,  I  shifted  my  position  with  a 
view  to  taking  post  on  the  other  side  of  the  ridge.  In  do- 
ing so  I  slipped  (Heaven  only  knows  how),  and  before  I 
realized  my  danger  was  sliding  down  the  high-pitched  roof. 

In  vain  I  clutch  at  the  tiles  with  my  hands  and  try  to 
stop  myself  with  my  heels.  I  go  on  with  ever  increasing 
momentum.  A  few  seconds,  and  I  shall  be  shot  from  the 
roof  and  dashed  to  pieces  on  the  pavement. 

A  thought  of  my  father,  England,  and  Angelique  flashes 
through  my  brain.  I  shut  my  eyes  and  commend  my  soul  to 
God;  and  then,  with  a  shock  that  bends  my  knees,  wrenches 
my  loins,  and  shakes  every  bone  in  my  body,  I  stop. 

The  heels  of  my  shoes  have  struck  the  stone  gutter  that 
runs  along  the  edge  of  the  roof,  stopping  my  glissade. 


IIO  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

My  feeling  of  relief  was  so  intense,  and  the  fear  that  if  I 
stirred  I  might  fall  so  great,  that  for  several  minutes  I  lay 
quite  still,  neither  desiring  nor  daring  to  move. 

I  think,  too,  that  I  must  have  been  slightly  stunned. 

The  first  thing  I  did  so  soon  as  I  recovered  my  scattered 
wits  was  to  doff  my  shoes  one  after  the  other,  yet  gingerly 
and  carefully  withal;  for  I  was  at  the  edge  of  the  slope,  and 
a  single  false  step  had  been  fatal. 

This  done,  I  recommenced  the  ascent,  and  had  not  gone 
far  when  I  heard  Langbein's  voice  in  the  region  of  the  trap- 
door. 

••  Are  you  there,  Herr  Astor?''  he  asked. 

"  Yes." 

"  It  is  all  right ;  you  can  come  in."' 

I  returned  to  my  room  with  a  thankful  heart.  My  brief 
experience  of  roof-climbing  had  confirmed  me  in  my  pref- 
erence for  inside  quarters,  and  here  were  two  more  dangers 
narrowly  escaped. 

Langbein  had  lighted  my  lamp. 

"  Go//  im  Himmcl !  where  have  you  been  ?"  he  exclaimed 
as  I  dropped  through  the  trap.  "Your  hands  are  bleeding, 
your  head  is  bleeding,  and  your  coat  is  in  rags." 

This  was  true.  The  back  of  my  head,  which  had  come 
in  contact  with  the  tiles,  was  bruised  and  cut,  and  in  trying 
to  stop  myself,  I  had  wounded  my  hands  and  torn  off  two 
or  three  of  my  finger-nails. 

I  told  Langbein  what  had  happened. 

''  Well  for  you  the  gutter  was  there,"  he  said.  "  Well  for 
us  also.  If  you  had  come  tumbling  off  the  roof  among  the 
Ulues  it  would  have  been  worse  than  the  flower-pot." 

I  [ad  Langbein  looked  less  painfully  serious  I  should  have 
lit  he  was  laughing  at  my  misadventure. 

"Worse  than  the  flower-pot  I  What  on  earth  do  you 
mean  ?"  I  asked. 


THE    INCIDENT   OF    THE    FLOWER-POT  III 

"  A  flower-pot  caused  all  the  mischief,  meinherr.  It  fell 
from  a  window-sill  as  the  patrol  was  passing,  and  narrowly 
missed  giving  one  of  the  ruffians  his  quietus.  Thinking  it 
had  been  done  on  purpose,  they  smashed  the  door  in,  threat- 
ened to  search  the  house  from  top  to  bottom,  and  lock  us  all 
up.  It  was  all  Monsieur  de  Castellan  could  do  to  pacify  them, 
and  they  went  away  growling,  and  saying  they  would  report 
the  incident  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville.  That  means  the  house 
will  be  '  suspect '  and  watched,  and  is  no  longer  a  safe  asy- 
lum for  you.  Monsieur  de  Castellan  is  of  opinion  that  vou 
had  better  change  your  quarters  before  worse  befall." 

"  But  whither  shall  I  go  ?"  I  asked  in  dismay,  since,  even 
though  Mine,  Dufour's  invitation  were  serious,  it  had  not 
been  seconded  by  her  husband,  and  I  doubted  whether  I 
should  be  safe  in  a  house  belonging  to  a  patriot  and  fre- 
quented by  Jacobins. 

"  Monsieur  de  Castellan  knows  of  a  place.  He  is  always 
taking  thought  for  others.  He  will  be  here  shortly,  and  tell 
you  about  it.  Meanwhile,  I  must  fetch  plaster  and  water 
and  dress  your  wounds." 

Whereupon  Langbein  went,  and  in  a  few  minutes  returned 
and  began  operations.  While  he  was  acting  the  part  of 
Good  Samaritan  his  master  appeared,  looking  very  grave, 
and  after  hearing  how  I  had  come  by  my  hurts,  said  that, 
to  his  great  regret,  he  was  compelled  to  urge  my  immediate 
departure.  The  departure  was  imperative.  He  quite  ex- 
pected, as  the  first  result  of  the  unfortunate  incident  of 
the  flower-pot,  that  a  sentinel  would  be  posted  at  the  door, 
probably  within  the  hour,  and  if  he  escaped  a  domiciliary 
visit  he  should  esteem  himself  fortunate,  adding  that  a  good 
friend  of  his,  who  lived  in  a  more  tranquil  part  of  Paris 
than  himself,  would  put  me  up  for  a  few  days,  and  that  he 
should  accompany  me  thither  himself. 

I  answered  that  he  had  already  done  more  than  enough 


112  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

for  one  who  had  no  claim  on  him,  and  was  beseeching  him  to 
let  me  shift  for  myself  when  he  silenced  me  with  an  impera- 
tive gesture,  saying  that,  though  he  could  no  longer  keep  me 
in  his  house,  I  was  still  his  guest,  that  he  considered  it  his 
duty  to  find  me  another  asylum,  and  wherever  I  was  he  should 
continue  to  watch  over  my  safety — if  I  would  allow  him. 

My  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  I  was  so  deeply  moved 
that  I  could  do  no  more  than  take  both  my  dear  friend's 
hands  in  mine  and  murmur  incoherent  thanks. 

Then  he  found  me  a  coat,  my  own  being  all  in  tatters. 
Our  destination  was  the  Rue  des  Trois  Pavilions ;  but  as  it. 
would  not  have  been  well  for  us  to  leave  the  house  together, 
I  started  first,  and  M.  de  Castellan  agreed  to  join  me  ten  or 
fifteen  minutes  later  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Mauconseil. 
Before  setting  out  I  mentioned  boulanger's  expected  visit, 
and  Langbein  was  instructed  to  tell  him  that  if  he  called 
again  on  the  morrow  he  would  learn  whither  I  was  gone, 
and  that  I  was  very  desirous  to  see  him. 

I  wanted  the  proceeds  of  my  draft.  My  "cash  in  hand" 
had  diminished  almost  to  nothingness.  I  needed  a  change 
of  clothes,  under  and  over,  and  I  might  at  any  moment  find 
myself  in  a  predicament  from  which  the  judicious  applica- 
tion of  money  would  be  the  sole  means  of  deliverance. 

M.  de  Castellan  joined  me  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  Mau- 
conseil,  according  to  arrangement.  I  proposed  that  we 
should  take  a  fiacre,  but  he  thought  we  had  better  not ;  most 
of  the  drivers  thereabouts  knew  him,  and  we  could  not  be 
too  cautious.  And  then  he  told  me  that  the  Assembly  had 
just  decreed  the  establishment  of  a  new  tribunal  for  deal- 
ing  with  "offences  against  the  nation"  (which  might  mean 
pretty  nearly  anything).  This  tribunal  could  inflict  only 
one  punishment — death  ;  and  against  its  judgments  there 
was  to  be  no  appeal.  As  M.  de  Castellan  said,  it  was  well 
to  be  cautious. 


THE    INCIDENT   OF   THE    FLOWER-POT  1 13 

The  house  to  which  he  took  me  was  lofty  and  spacious, 
and  belonged  to  a  tailor  called  Verner,  who  turned  an  hon- 
est penny  by  letting  furnished  rooms  and  taking  lodgers. 
One  of  his  tenants  was  a  member  of  the  Assembly.  In  one 
sense  this  would  be  an  advantage,  a  house  where  dwelt  a 
deputy  being  less  likely  to  become  "suspect "  than  one  not  so 
fortunate.  On  the  other  hand,  I  should  need  to  lie  closely 
perdu,  both  for  my  own  sake  and  that  of  my  new  host. 
Verner,  as  M.  de  Castellan  informed  me,  was  an  excellent 
fellow,  in  whom  I  might  place  implicit  confidence,  and 
albeit  solicitude  for  his  wife  and  family,  and  a  natural  de- 
sire to  keep  his  head  on  his  shoulders,  constrained  him  to 
swim  with  the  revolutionary  stream,  he  compounded  for 
his  pliancy  by  giving  aid  and  comfort  to  the  revolution's 
victims. 

He  was  a  clapper,  fussy  little  man  with  a  round  belly,  a 
rotund,  smiling  face,  and  a  fluent  tongue.  He  received  us 
with  great  cordiality,  and  gave  me  a  room  on  the  first  floor, 
with  a  window  looking  towards  an  inner  court.  It  had 
also  the  advantage  of  communicating  with  the  kitchen  by  a 
back  staircase,  which  might  be  useful  in  certain  eventuali- 
ties, and  the  room  was  so  placed  that  unless  I  was  very 
demonstrative  I  could  neither  be  seen  nor  heard  either  by 
insiders  or  outsiders  ;  and  as  only  Verner  and  his  wife  were 
aware  of  my  presence  in  the  house,  I  might  consider  myself 
tolerably  safe.  At  any  rate,  he  said  so  ;  and  I  was,  of  course, 
bound  to  believe  him. 

When  M.  de  Castellan  was  gone  I  had  a  pleasant  talk 
with  M.  Verner,  in  the  course  of  which  I  took  occasion  to 
inquire  the  name  of  his  tenant,  the  deputy. 

"  Monsieur  Serin,  or,  as  he  prefers  to  be  called,  Citizen 
Deputy,  and  his  room  is  next  to  yours,"  answered  the 
tailor. 

"  Serin  !     Why,  he  is  a  fanatical  Jacobin." 
8 


I  14  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

"  Exactly,  and  I  wish  he  had  his  deserts.  Only  the  night 
before  last  he  made  a  speech  at  the  Jacobin  Club,  in  which 
he  denounced  the  poor  king  as  an  enemy  of  the  human 
race,  and  in  the  name  of  an  outraged  people  demanded  the 
tyrant's  head.  Yes,  Serin  is  a  monster,  and  I  was  very 
sorry  when  he  proposed  to  become  my  tenant;  but  I  could 
not  say  him  nay,  and  you  must  remember  that  his  presence 
here  constitutes  a  sort  of  guarantee  of  the  soundness  of  my 
political  principles,  which  in  these  days  is  an  immense 
advantage." 

"  I  dare  say.  Cut  suppose  he  and  I  were  to  meet,  by 
some  untoward  accident  ?  Being  a  deputy,  he  has  probably 
seen  me  on  parade  at  the  palace  or  strolling  in  the  gardens, 
where  I  used  often  to  walk;  and  though  I  look  very  differ- 
ent in  these  clothes,  and  have  shaved  my  mustache  and 
abandoned  powder,  he  might  recogni/e  me." 

Verner  turned  pale  at  the  mere  idea. 

"  But  you  must  not  meet  him  !"  he  exclaimed.  "  Serin  is 
as  sharp  as  a  needle,  and  as  suspicious  as  his  friend  Murat. 
When  he  is  in  you  must  not  show  your  nose  outside  your 
room  door  on  any  pretext  whatever,  nor  make  the  slightest 
noise.  Only  this  wall  divides  your  room  from  his.  Thank 
goodness,  he  is  not  here  much.  He  is  away  all  day,  some- 
times all  night,  and  the  only  meal  he  takes  in  the  house  is 
breakfast.     And  now  I  think  I  had  better  leave  you." 

What  Verner  had  imparted  caused  me  considerable  ap- 
hension  ;  but  I  retired  soon  after  his  departure,  and  fell 
into  a  troubled  sleep. 


CHAPTER    XVI 
CITIZEN    SERIN    FIRES   A    PISTOL 

I  had  slept  I  don't  know  how  long — perhaps  two  hours — - 
when  I  was  awakened  by  a  violent  scratching  at  my  door, 
followed  by  several  gentle,  yet  emphatic,  knocks. 

"  What  is  it  ?"  said  I,  getting  up  and  going  to  the  door. 

"  For  God's  sake,  let  me  in  !"  whispered  Verner. 

I  let  him  in. 

"Put  something  on  and  come  out,"  he  said.  "We  are 
betrayed ;  the  Blues  and  a  lot  of  sans-culottes  are  coming 
to  search  the  house.  A  good  friend  of  mine  heard  them 
say  so,  and  ran  on  to  warn  me.  He  left  them  in  the  Rue 
Franc  Bourgeois.  They  will  be  here  in  two  minutes. 
Quick  !" 

"  Impossible  !"  I  answered,  as  I  got  into  my  breeches  and 
threw  on  my  coat.  "  Nobody  but  Monsieur  de  Castellan 
knows  I  am  here." 

"You  may  have  been  tracked.  Anyhow,  they  are  com- 
ing, and  if  they  find  you  here  we  shall  all  be  ruined — all ! 
all!" 

"  Is  there  a  way  out  ?" 

"  None.  You  would  meet  them  ;  you  would  be  seen. 
The  house  is  beset.  But  there  is  a  place  in  the  kitchen, 
and,  fortunately,  the  servants  have  gone  to  bed,  and  Serin 
hasn't  come  home.  Come  along  !  Quick  !  To  the  kitchen  !" 

I  followed  my  host  softly  down  the  back  stairs.  As  he 
stood  at  the  bottom,  holding  above  his  head,  for  my  benefit, 
a  long,  thin  candle  with  an  untrimmed  wick,  its  flickering 
light  fell  on  a  pale  and  frightened  face.     For  this,  however, 


n6  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

I  thought  none  the  worse  of  him  ;  every  decent  father  of  a 
family  in  Paris  was  in  a  chronic  condition  of  fear  just  then, 
and,  for  my  own  part,  I  frankly  confess  that  I  would  rather 
have  been  somewhere  else. 

■•  This  is  the  place,''  said  Verner,  when  we  were  in  the 
kitchen,  motioning  with  his  candle  to  a  sort  of  black  hole 
close  to  the  hearth.  "  It  is  bigger  than  it  looks,  and  roomy 
inside;  but  when  closed,  looks  so  small  that  nobody  would 
think  it  could  hold  a  man.  Fortunately,  the  fire  has  been 
out  some  time,  or  you  might  be  roasted.  But  there  are 
holes  for  the  admission  of  air  at  the  farther  end.  Hark  ! 
The  ruffians  are  thundering  at  the  door.  They  will  break 
it  in.  I  must  run  and  open  it  for  them.  That  is  it  !  Now 
you  are  in,  and  be  sure  you  stop  there  until  1  tell  you  to 
come  out." 

I  had  to  creep  in  on  my  hands  and  knees.  Unix:  inside, 
however,  I  could  stand  half  upright;  but  as  the  position 
k:ft  a  good  deal  to  be  desired  in  the  way  of  ease,  I  sought 
for  something  whereon  1  might  sit  or  recline  ;  and  after  grop- 
ing about,  found  a  heap  of  refuse  that  answered  my  purpose 
indifferently  well,  and  from  which  I  inferred  that  the  place 
was  what  Lancashire  folk  call  a  "cinder  hoyle." 

It  was  also  hot— very  hot ;  and  there  was  so  sulphurous  a 
reek  from  the  still  warm  cinders  that  I  breathed  with  diffi- 
culty, and  the  sweat  rolled  down  my  face  and  fell  on  the 
ground  like  drops  of  rain. 

Vet  after  a  few  minutes  these  discomforts  were  forgotten 
in  a  new  excitement.  Through  the  air-holes  mentioned  by 
my  host  I  could  see  lights  moving  about  the  court-yard. 
They  were  carried  bygendarmes  and  sans-culottes.  1  could 
likewise  hear  the  officer  in  command  of  the  detachment  giv- 
ing directions  for  the  quest,  and  ordering  poor  Verner  to 
make  a  general  illumination  by  putting  lights  in  every  win- 


CITIZEN    SERIN    FIRES    A    PISTOL  I17 

The  men  were  bidden  to  look  everywhere — search  every 
cupboard  and  closet,  sound  the  walls  and  floors,  and  even 
to  probe  the  mattresses  with  their  pikes  and  bayonets. 

Little  they  thought  that  the  man  they  wanted  was  watch- 
ing them,  with  a  pistol  in  either  hand  and  a  dagger  in  his 
belt. 

For  the  heat  at  length  grew  so  oppressive,  the  air  so  sti- 
fling, that  I  debated  in  my  mind  whether  it  were  not  wiser 
to  sally  forth  and  die  fighting  than  tarry  in  the  cinder-hole 
at  the  risk  of  being  smothered. 

I  had  almost  decided  that  the  former  was  the  better  and 
more  manly  course,  when  a  gleam  of  light  shone  through  the 
chinks  of  the  door,  or  rather,  manhole,  on  the  kitchen  side 
of  the  recess.  As  the  door  fitted  loosely,  the  chinks  were 
wide,  and  it  occurred  to  me  that  by  kneeling  down  and  put- 
ting my  mouth  to  them  I  should  be  able  to  breathe  more 
freely. 

The  experiment  succeeded.  A  current  of  cool  air  came 
in  through  the  chinks  which  refreshed  my  body  and  revived 
my  spirits.  I  found,  also,  that  I  could  see  into  the  kitchen, 
albeit,  as  the  light  vanished  as  soon  as  it  appeared,  I  was 
unable  to  make  out  by  whom,  or  for  what  purpose,  it  had 
been  brought  in. 

In  the  meantime  the  searchers  went  on  with  their  work. 
I  could  hear  them  above  me,  and  through  the  air-holes  ob- 
serve their  movements  in  the  rooms  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  court-yard  ;  and  soon  the  sound  of  voices  and  the  tramp 
of  approaching  feet  warned  me  that  they  were  making  for 
the  kitchen. 

First  came  poor  Verner  with  a  candle,  and  though  obvi- 
ously doing  his  best  to  put  a  bold  face  on  it,  looking  like  a 
doomed  man.  I  felt  sorry  beyond  measure  that  I  had  been 
the  means,  however  unintentionally,  of  involving  him  in  so 
terrible  a  misfortune,  for  as  he  was  accompanied  by  six 


IlS  TOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

gendarmes,  and  there  were  only  three  places  in  the  kitchen 
that  could  hold  a  man — a  closet,  the  chimney,  and  the  cin- 
der-hole— discovery  seemed  inevitable.  It  was  inconceiva- 
ble that  the  searchers,  who  had  been  told  to  seek  every- 
where, and  even  to  probe  the  mattresses,  should  overlook 
the  cinder-hole. 

Nevertheless,  I  resolved  to  make  an  effort  to  escape,  and, 
failing  that,  to  sell  my  life  dearly.  My  plan  was  this  :  When 
the  gendarmes  were  stooping  to  open  the  door,  I  would 
kick  it  aside,  and  give  them  two  pistol  shots  point-blank  ; 
then,  drawing  my  dagger,  burst  out,  and  try  to  gain  the 
street  before  they  recovered  from  the  bewilderment  into 
which  so  sudden  an  attack  would  be  sure  to  throw  them. 

At  the  worst  I  could  but  die,  and  if  I  let  myself  be  taken 
I  should  perish  on  the  scaffold.  I  preferred  a  soldier's 
death,  and  the  fortune  that  had  ahead)'  so  often  befriended 
me  might  befriend  me  again. 

But,  to  my  surprise,  the  gendarmes,  each  of  whom  carried 
a  light,  instead  of  examining  the  closet  and  the  cinder-hole, 
began  to  overhaul  the  drawers,  presses,  and  cupboards, 
which,  though  they  might  have  held  a  child,  could  not  pos- 
sibly have  contained  a  well-grown  boy.  They  tumbled  all 
the  contents  on  the  floor — without,  of  course,  finding  what 
they  wanted  —  and  were  beginning  to  search  the  closet 
when  the  kitchen  door  opened,  and  a  harsh  and  peremptory 
voice  demanded  what  the  devil  they  were  doing. 

The  new-comer  was  a  tall,  spare  man,  witli  deep-sunken 
eyes,  and  a  sallow  and  sinister,  yet  not  altogether  ill-favored 
face,  and,  as  touching  his  person,  got  up  like  a  glorified 
sans-culotte.  lie  wore  a  blouse,  Phrygian  cap,  and  very 
roomy  trousers.  Round  his  waist  was  a  three-colored  tie, 
round  his  throat  a  red  handkerchief,  and  a  murderous-look- 
ing sabre  dangled  from  his  belt. 

"What  the  devil  are  you  doing?"  he  repeated,  with  an 


CITIZEN    SERIN    FIRES    A   PISTOL  119 

air  which  showed  that  he  was  a  man  in  authority  and  fully 
aware  of  his  own  importance. 

"  Searching  for  arms,  Citizen  Deputy,"  answered  the 
brigadier  in  command  of  the  party. 

"By  whose  order,  may  I  ask?" 

"By  order  of  the  Committee  of  the  Section,  Rights  of 
Man,  Citizen  Deputy." 

"Don't  you  know  that  the  law  disapproves  of  domiciliary 
visits  after  sunset,  and  that  the  law  is  the  voice  of  the  na- 
tion, and  the  voice  of  the  nation  the  voice  of  God  ?" 

"  We  are  simply  doing  as  we  were  told,  Citizen  Deputy. 
The  responsibility  rests  with  the  Committee  of  the  Section, 
not  with  us." 

"  True !  All  the  same,  this  is  an  irregularity  that  must 
be  reported.  On  whose  denunciation  was  the  search 
ordered  ?" 

"  On  the  denunciation  of  Joseph  Foucroy,  master  white- 
smith, Rue  Brae." 

"  What  say  you  to  this,  Citizen  Verner  ?"  asked  the 
deputy,  turning  to  the  gentleman  in  question,  whose  face,  I 
was  glad  to  observe,  had  undergone  a  change  for  the  better. 
Erstwhile  anxious  and  despairing,  it  was  now  radiant  and 
smiling. 

"  What  do  I  say  ?"  he  answered,  indignantly.  "  I  say  that 
it  is  a  foul  slander.  This  Foucroy  is  a  poltroon  and  a 
rogue,  Citizen  Serin.  He  owes  me  five  hundred  francs  for 
work  done,  honest  work.  I  press  him  for  payment,  and  he 
revenges  himself  by  denouncing  me  as  a  concealer  of 
arms." 

"Ah,  this  also  must  be  seen  to,"  making  a  note  on  his 
tablets  ;  "  it  is  a  crime  to  use  the  law  as  an  engine  for  the 
gratification  of  private  vengeance,  and  I  shall  take  care 
that  this  sneak  gets  his  deserts.  Citizen  Verner  is  a  true 
patriot  and  an  honest  man,  Citizen  Brigadier.     Aristides 


120  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

Serin  answers  for  him.  He  is  my  landlord  and  my  tailor. 
Before  France  became  free  he  made  breeches  for  aristo- 
crats, now  he  makes  trousers  for  sans-culottes.  He  made 
these  I  am  now  wearing,"  glancing  admiringly  at  his  nether 
garments.  "  Aristocrats  despise  tailors.  We  patriots  de- 
spise aristocrats  and  honor  tailors.  They  clothe  our  per- 
sons ;  they  are  as  useful  and  indispensable  as  butchers, 
bakers,  and  candlestick -makers,  and,  like  them,  belong  to 
the  vast  army  of  workers  which  is  one  of  the  glories  of 
France." 

"It  is  true,  it  is  true,"  murmured  the  gendarmes,  admir- 
ingly. 

"  My  father  was  a  tailor.  It  is  my  pride  to  spring  from 
the  people,  my  privilege  to  spend  my  days  and  nights  in 
their  service.  Our  brave  soldiers  who  are  defending  the 
sacred  soil  of  France  against  the  coalesced  kings  of  Europe 
are  in  sore  need  of  arms,  and  if  those  who  possess  arms  do 
not  voluntarily  lay  them  on  the  altar  of  the  country  the 
country  takes  them.  Therefore,  searches  must  be  made. 
But  before  this  search  was  ordered,  I  think  that  I,  who  live 
in  this  house,  ought  to  have  been  consulted.  Have  you 
found  any  arms,  brigadier?" 

"Only  this  pistol,  Citizen  Deputy,"  handing  it  to  Serin. 

"  Ah,  well,  a  citizen  must  be  allowed  at  least  one  weapon 
for  his  personal  use.  It  looks  valuable— double-barrelled 
and  silver  mounted." 

'•  I  had  forgotten  its  existence,"  put  in  Verner,  eagerly. 
"  I  took  it  from  a  customer  who  had  no  other  means  of  set- 
tling my  little  bill.     He  said  it  was  worth  all  he  owed  me." 

"The  customer  was  a  ci-devant,  I  suppose?" 

"You  are  right,  Citizen  Deputy.  It  belonged  to  a  ci- 
devant  noble." 

"  It  looks  like  the  pistol  of  a  ci-devant.  Furbished  up,  it 
would  make  a  handsome  weapon." 


CITIZEN    SERIN    FIRES   A    PISTOL  12  1 

"And  look  well  in  your  belt,  Citizen  Deputy.  Do  me 
the  favor  to  accept  it  as  a  gift— friendship's  tribute  to  high- 
souled  patriotism." 

"You  do  me  too  much  honor,  dear  Citizen  Verner,"  said 
Serin,  with  a  smile  of  serene  self-satisfaction.  "  I  am  proud 
to  own  you  as  my  friend,  and  I  am  at  least  a  sincere  patriot 
—whether  high-souled,  it  will  be  for  France  and  posterity 
to  decide.  I  cannot  refuse  a  gift  so  graciously  offered,  and 
I  shall  ever  cherish  it  as  a  souvenir  of  our  friendship  and 
your  merits.     Is  it  loaded  ?" 

"I  cannot  say.  It  is  just  as  I  got  it.  I  never  either 
loaded  or  discharged  a  fire-arm  in  my  life." 

"  I  shall  soon  see,"  priming  the  pistol. 

"  Had  you  not  better  try  it  with  the  ramrod  ?"  suggested 
the  brigadier. 

"  No,  I  am  going  to  fire  it." 

And  then,  to  my  consternation,  Serin  pointed  the  pistol 
straight  at  my  head,  which  I  promptly  removed  from  the 
line  of  his  fire. 

"  Shoot  up  the  chimney,  and  then  you  cannot  hurt  any- 
body," said  the  tailor,  thoughtfully. 

"Unless  there  is  a  ci-devant  or  a  Swiss  hiding  there," 
said  Serin,  grimly.  "  Good  !  I  will  act  on  your  sugges- 
tion, Citizen  Verner,"  cocking  the  pistol. 

Then  followed  a  loud  explosion  and  a  cry  of  dismay,  and 
the  next  moment  the  Citizen  Deputy  was  dancing  round 
the  kitchen  as  black  as  a  sweep,  and  with  his  fingers  in  his 
mouth.  One  of  the  barrels  had  burst,  damaging  his  hand, 
and  the  concussion  had  brought  down  an  avalanche  of 
soot. 

"Oh,  oh,  oh!"  he  cried,  "a  thousand  thunders!  Sacrk 
nam  !  To  the  devil  with  your  pistol,  Citizen  Verner  !  It 
has  broken  my  forefinger.  To  the  devil  with  it,  I  say  !  And 
that  cursed  soot  has  got  into  my  eyes  and  throat,"  coughing 


122  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIKE 

violently.  "  Your  chimney  has  not  been  swept  for  ages, 
Citizen  Yerner." 

Here  some  of  the  gendarmes  tittered  audibly,  whereupon 
Serin,  completely  losing  his  temper,  turned  on  them  fiercely. 

••  You  dare  to  laugh  at  me  !"  he  screamed.  "  Get  you 
gone  this  instant,  riff-raff !  Who  are  you  to  violate  an  hon- 
est citizen's  domicile  at  dead  of  night?  I'll  report  you  to 
the  commune  ;  I'll  bring  your  conduct  before  the  Assembly; 
I'll  have  your  blood.  Sacrc  nom  !  You  shall  be  tried  by 
the  Revolutionary  Tribunal  and  beheaded.  Get  you  gone, 
I  say.     March  !" 

The  gendarmes  marched. 


CHAPTER    XVII 
BAD    NEWS 

"  I  am  afraid  my  finger  is  broken,  Citizen  Verner,"  ob- 
served Serin,  ruefully.  "  It  hurts  dreadfully,  and  I  cannot 
move  it." 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  examining  the  injured  digit.  "  Bruised 
and  cut,  but  not  fractured.  I  have  a  liniment  which  will 
reduce  the  inflammation  and  relieve  the  pain.    Shall  I  ? — " 

"  Thank  you.     By  all  means." 

Verner  produced  a  bottle,  poured  some  of  the  contents 
on  the  wounded  finger,  and  rubbed  it  vigorously  in. 

"It  will  smart  a  little  at  first,"  said  he,  "but  after- 
wards— " 

"  Smart !"  exclaimed  the  deputy,  snatching  his  hand 
away  and  resuming  his  dance.  "  Smart !  It  burns  !  To 
the  devil  with  your  liniment !     It  is  aqita-fortis  /" 

"  Only  have  a  little  patience,"  quoth  Verner,  soothingly — 
"  only  have  a  little  patience,  and  you  will  experience  great 
relief.     Just  one  more  application." 

"  I'll  see  you  guillotined  first,  Citizen  Verner.  ...  It 
does  begin  to  feel  a  little  better,  though.  Should  it  be 
bound  up?" 

"Yes,  with  a  wet  rag.     Allow  me." 

When  the  bandage  had  been  applied,  Serin  gave  a  sigh 
of  satisfaction. 

"  That  is  good,"  he  said.  "  Why  didn't  you  do  it  before  ? 
Now  I  shall  go  to  my  room.  Don't  think  I  shall  sleep  much, 
though,  and  my  clothes  are  ruined.  To  the  devil  with  your 
pistol,  Citizen  Verner !     I  wish  I  had  never  seen  it." 


124  F0R    HONOR    AND    LIKE 

Notwithstanding  this  abuse  of  his  gift,  Verner  accom- 
panied the  deputy  obsequiously  to  the  door  and  across  the 
court-yard,  then  returned  to  the  kitchen. 

••  They  are  all  gone  ;  you  can  emerge,"  he  saicl,  at  the 
same  time  opening  the  cinder-hole  door. 

As  I  crawled  out,  Verner  began  to  laugh— laughed  till  the 
tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks,  and  went  on  laughing  so  long 
that  I  thought  he  would  never  stop. 

"  Excuse  me,"  he  gasped  at  length.  "  But  I  really  could 
not  restrain  myself  any  longer.  I  was  nearly  bursting. 
What  a  comedy !  Did  you  see  him  dance  ?  I  wish  the 
pistol  had  blown  his  head  off.  It  had  been  loaded  a  twelve- 
month. To  think  that  you  were  saved  by  Serin!  I  told 
you  it  was  an  advantage  to  have  a  deputy  as  tenant.  How 
he  gave  it  those  Blues  !" 

••  They  were  searching  for  arms,  not  for  me  ?" 

"So  it  seems;  and  that  sneak,  Foucroy,  was  the  cause. 
But  all  I  knew  in  the  first  instance  was  that  they  were  going 
to  make  me  a  domiciliary  visit,  whence  I  naturally  con- 
cluded that  we  had  been  betrayed,  and  that  they  had  heard 
you  were  here.  All  the  same,  if  they  had  found  you  it  would 
have  been  just  as  bad  ;  and  had  not  Serin  appeared  in  the 
nick  of  time,  they  would  have  done  so.  I  know  I  was  in 
mortal  terror,  and  you  must  have  passed  a  bad  quarter  of 
an  hour." 

"  Indeed  I  did.     I  was  nearly  smothered." 

'•  Ait  you  thirsty  ?" 

"  I  am  dying  of  thirst." 

"You  shall  have  something  to  drink  that  will  do  you 
good."  Whereupon  Verner  went  into  the  cellar,  and  pres- 
ently returned  with  a  bottle  under  each  arm. 

"Champagne  wine,"  quoth  he,  smacking  his  lips.  "I 
don't  often  indulge  in  it,  but  this  is  an  occasion  that  ought 
to   be  celebrated:    the  discomfiture  of  the   Blues  and  your 


BAD    NEWS  125 

rescue  by  Serin.  What  a  sight  he  was  !  I  knew  the  lini- 
ment would  make  him  dance.  It  contains  turpentine  and 
acetic  acid,  and  his  finger  is  gashed  as  well  as  bruised." 

"  Isn't  your  deputy  somewhat  of  a  fool  ?"  I  asked. 

"  No.  Serin  talks  nonsense,  like  his  kind,  and  is  eaten 
up  with  vanity;  but  he  is  shrewd  and  clever  withal,  and  an 
implacable  enemy.  If  he  only  knew.  But  he  must  neither 
know  nor  suspect,"  added  Verner,  gravely;  "that  were 
fatal." 

And  then  we  clinked  our  glasses  and  drank  the  king's 
health  and  to  the  confusion  of  his  enemies;  and  the  little 
man  grew  so  hilarious  that  it  was  all  I  could  do  to  keep 
him  from  breaking  into  song.  But  before  we  separated  he 
sobered  down,  and  again  cautioned  me  to  go  to  bed  quietly 
and  stay  there  until  he  scratched  at  my  door. 

This  injunction  I  obeyed  to  the  letter,  falling  asleep  the 
moment  I  turned  in,  and  so  remaining  until  I  was  roused  by 
the  preconcerted  signal. 

On  letting  Verner  in  I  learned  that  Serin  was  gone  for  the 
day.  He  had  slept  ill  and  left  in  an  evil  temper,  vowing 
vengeance  against  the  brigadier  and  his  men,  and  carrying 
his  arm  in  a  sling. 

Verner  looked  anxious,  from  which  I  opined  that  the 
champagne  (of  which  he  took  the  lion's  share)  had  made 
his  head  ache,  or  reflection  had  damped  his  overnight's 
elation. 

"  When  I  think  what  a  narrow  escape  we  had  I  cannot 
help  trembling,"  said  he.  "  If  Serin  were  to  find  out  that 
he  had  prevented  the  arrest  of  an  officer  of  the  Swiss 
Guard,  or  that,  while  posing  as  a  patriot,  I  was  harboring 
you,  his  rage  would  be  boundless." 

"  How  can  he  find  out  ?" 

"  Accidents  happen  sometimes,  and  his  manner  this 
morning  was  not   reassuring.     It  would  not  take  much  to 


126  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

rouse  his  suspicions.  You  will  need  to  keep  very  quiet, 
Monsieur  Boucher.  I  know  it  will  be  irksome,  but  the 
consequence  of  discovery  would  be — decapitation." 

I  assured  M.  Verner  that  both  for  his  sake  and  mine  — 
more,  even,  for  his  sake  than  mine — I  should  keep  very 
quiet,  and  obey  his  behests  to  the  letter.  This  seemed  to 
relieve  the  good  man  greatly,  and  he  went  away  comforted. 

Later  in  the  day  came  the  vicomte,  ostensibly  to  order  a 
coat  from  Verner,  and  was  introduced  into  my  rooms  with 
infinite  precautions.  He  brought  the  proceeds  of  the  draft, 
but  no  news.  He  had  heard  nothing  more  of  Angelique 
and  her  mother,  and  did  not  propose  to  do  aught  further  in 
the  matter  of  the  plot  and  my  passport  until  the  storm  had 
blown  over,  and  the  hue-and-cry  after  me  become  less 
strenuous. 

'•  We  must  wait ;  but  it  won't  be  for  long,"  he  said,  cheer- 
fully. "  Only  keep  out  of  their  hands — and  sight — for  anoth- 
er week  or  two,  and  the  police  will  conclude  that  you  have 
left  Paris,  and  cease  looking  for  you.  By  that  time,  too,  I 
dare  say,  the  mob  will  have  forgotten  what  they  call  the 
treason,  we  the  treacherous  massacre,  of  the  Swiss  Guard 
in  some  new  excitement." 

The  money  he  had  received  from  Dufour  amounted  to 
some  three  thousand  francs  in  coin  (chiefly  silver),  and 
six  thousand  in  assignats  (paper),  but  as  these  were  worth 
less  than  half  their  face  value,  I  was  not  so  rich  as  might 
appear. 

When  I  had  given  Boulanger  a  thousand  francs  in  paper 
and  five  hundred  in  silver  for  the  purchase  of  a  passport, 
and  was  putting  the  balance  in  my  pocket,  lie  suggested 
that,  considering  my  precarious  position  and  the  possibility 
of  further  changes  of  quarters,  I  might  do  well  to  make 
I  hifour  my  banker. 

"  Add  the  possibility  of  my  being  captured  and  my  money 


BAD    NEWS  127 

confiscated,"  quoth  I.  "  Yes  ;  it  were  a  wise  thing  to  clo,  if 
Dufour  be  trustworthy." 

The  vicomte  thought  that  Dufour,  though  politically  a 
malignant,  was  financially  a  man  of  honor.  Moreover,  by 
cashing  my  draft  he  had  put  himself  in  our  power  as  much 
as  I  had  put  myself  in  his,  and  would  not  dare  to  play  any 
tricks. 

So,  with  the  exception  of  two  thousand  francs  (the  equiva- 
lent of  about  fifty  pounds),  mostly  in  assignats,  which  I  kept 
for  present  use  and  possible  emergencies,  I  returned  the 
money  to  my  friend,  and  it  was  agreed  that  he  should  place 
it  on  deposit  with  Dufour. 

One  of  the  first  uses  I  made  of  my  accession  of  fortune 
was  to  bespeak  a  suit  of  clothes  from  my  landlord,  and 
commission  him  to  buy  me  some  undergarments,  of  which  I 
stood  sorely  in  need.  And  then  followed  several  tranquil 
days — days  which,  albeit  they  travelled  with  leaden  wings, 
were  free  from  excitement  and  alarms.  I  kept  my  room 
religiously,  seeing  only  Verner  and  his  wife,  except  once, 
when  the  vicomte  made  me  a  second  visit. 

Emboldened  by  this  impunity  and  the  fact  that  Serin  was 
so  engrossed  with  politics  that  he  departed  early  and 
returned  late,  occasionally  not  at  all,  Verner  now  and  then 
allowed  me  to  slip  out  of  the  house  after  dark,  and  stretch 
my  legs  in  the  neighboring  streets — but  only  when  he  had 
first  ascertained  that  they  were  quiet,  and  on  condition  that 
my  absence  did  not  exceed  one  hour. 

Twice  was  he  good  enough  to  bear  me  company.  The 
second  time  something  happened. 

We  had  finished  our  walk  and  were  nearing  Verner's 
dwelling,  when  he  touched  my  arm  and  whispered,  "That 
man  just  ahead  is  Serin.  If  he  sees  us  he  will  want  to  know 
all  about  you.     Let  us  turn  back." 

"And  if  he  were  to  turn  round  and  catch  si^ht  of  us  !    He 


123  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

is  looking  round  now.  Put  a  bold  face  on  it,  and  introduce 
me  as  a  gentleman  from  the  country  who  is  looking  for 
gs." 

The  night  not  being  very  dark,  and  ourselves  under  a  lamp, 
Serin  recognized  my  companion  at  once  and  greeted  him,  at 
the  same  time  eying  me  curiously. 

"  Here  is  a  gentleman  who  wants  apartments,"  said  Ver- 
ner.  "  Citizen  L'oucher,  Citizen  Serin.  I  doubt,  though, 
whether  I  can  accommodate  him." 

•■  From  the  country?-'  And  then, without  waiting  for  an 
answer,  ,-  Have  you  been  in  Paris  long?'' 

"  Only  a  few  days  ?" 

••  You  are  from  the  North,  if  I  may  judge  from  your  ac- 
cent." 

This  was  an  awkward  question,  and  I  had  to  deal  with 
an  awkward  customer,  likewise  a  sharp  one  ;  none  other 
could  have  detected  any  accent  in  the  three  words  I  had 
spoken  :  "  Settlement  quelques  jours."  But  a  happy  thought 
came  to  my  aid,  and  I  answered  without  hesitation  : 

"From  Alsace,  Citizen  Deputy." 

•'  That  accounts  for  the  accent.  Rather  a  strange  time  to 
visit  Paris  on  pleasure,  though,  is  it  not?'' 

"  I  am  not  on  a  pleasure  visit.  My  father  is  a  dyer 
and  calico  printer,  and  my  visit  has  to  do  with  his  busi- 

'•  A  stalwart  young  fellow  of  your  inches  should  have  a 
nobler  occupation  than  buying  dyestuffs  or  selling  calicoes. 
Don't  you  know  that  the  country  is  in  danger?  If  you 
arc  a  true  patriot  you  will  at  once  enroll  yourself  in  a  regi- 
ment of  volunteers  and  march  to  the  frontier." 

••  I  should  like  nothing  better,  Citizen  Deputy,  for,  to  tell 
the  truth,  I  detesl  business." 

■■  Enroll  yourself,  then,  and  I  shall  do  myself  the  honor  of 
writing  to  your  father,  if  you  will  give  me  his  address,  ap- 


BAD    NEWS  129 

plauding  your  resolution  and  accepting  the  responsibility  of 
my  advice.  And  if  he  is  a  good  patriot  he  will  be  highly 
gratified." 

"  My  father  is  an  ardent  patriot,  Citizen  Deputy,  and  I 
am  sure  your  letter  would  be  a  great  satisfaction  to  hiin." 

I  gave  Serin,  as  the  address  of  Citizen  Frederic  Boucher, 
the  name  of  the  place  at  which  my  father  had  formerly 
lived  in  Elsass,  and  it  was  duly  recorded  in  the  deputy's 
tablets. 

"I  am  delighted  to  have  secured  so  promising  a  recruit 
for  the  army  of  the  republic,"  said  he,  blandly.  "If  you 
come  to  me  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  between  ten  and  eleven 
to-morrow,  you  shall  be  duly  enrolled.  Where  have  you 
been  staying  ?" 

"  At  the  Hotel  des  Princes,  Rue  de  Grenelle ;  but  as  I 
find  it  expensive,  I  am  looking  for  lodgings  in  a  cheaper 
quarter." 

"  The  nation  will  provide  you  with  lodgings  for  the 
future — occasionally,  I  dare  say,  a  la  belle  etoile"  (under  the 
stars).  "  The  Assembly  took  an  important  resolution  to- 
night, Citizen  Verner,  of  which  I  am  sure  you,  like  all  other 
patriots,  will  approve.  On  the  motion  of  Danton  it  has 
been  decreed  that  on  Wednesday  night  every  house  in  Paris 
shall  be  searched  for  counter-revolutionists  and  arms.  The 
municipal  officers  who  conduct  the  visits  will  be  empowered 
to  arrest  all  whom  they  may  suspect  of  disaffection  to  the 
republic,  or  who  cannot  give  a  satisfactory  account  of  them- 
selves. Meanwhile  the  barriers  are  to  be  closed,  so  that 
none  of  these  aristocrats,  who  are  plotting  against  the 
country,  may  escape.  And  now  I  must  leave  you ;  I  have 
had  a  hard  day's  work,  and  am  dying  for  a  good  night's 
rest.  You  won't  forget  to  come  to  me  in  the  morning, 
Citizen  Boucher — not  later  than  eleven,  if  you  please. 
Good-night." 
9 


130  FOR    HONOR   AND   LIFE 

"Man  Dieul  mon  Die  11  /  what  a  misfortune!"  said  Ver- 
ner,  in  an  agonized  whisper.  "  All  Paris  to  be  visited  the 
second  night  from  this,  and  you  under  engagement  to  meet 
Serin  to-morrow !  What  will  become  of  us  ?  What  shall 
we  do  ?" 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
IN   PERIL 

"What  shall  we  do  ?  What  will  become  of  us  ?"  repeated 
Verner,  turning  into  his  work-room,  where  at  that  hour  we 
could  count  on  immunity  from  eavesdroppers  and  busy- 
bodies. 

"  What  shall  we  do  ?  You  will  stay  where  you  are,  of 
course,  and  I  must  find  a  fresh  billet.     That  is  all,"  said  I. 

"You  don't  propose  to  keep  your  appointment  with  Serin, 
then  ?" 

"Go  to  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  you  mean ?     Not  I,  faith." 

"  But  what  will  he  say  ?" 

"  That  is  his  affair." 

"  What  will  he  say  to  me,  I  mean." 

"  What  can  he  say  ?  You  are  in  no  way  responsible  for 
my  conduct.  We  met  accidentally  at  a  cabaret  in  the  Rue 
St.  Honore.  I  inquired  about  lodgings,  and  when  we  fell 
in  with  Serin  you  were  bringing  me  here  to  view  your  only 
vacant  room.  Considering  that  I  am  going  to  be  enrolled 
to-morrow  morning,  I  decide  not  to  take  the  room,  and  re- 
turn, as  you  suppose,  to  the  Hotel  des  Princes.  What  can 
be  simpler?     If  Serin  wants  me,  let  him  find  me." 

"  It  is  so.  That  is  the  line  I  must  take.  I  shall  feign 
ignorance,  and  sympathize  with  Serin  in  his  anger  and  dis- 
appointment. Deception  is  a  virtue  when  you  have  to  do 
with  such  a  fellow.  But  you,  my  poor  Monsieur  Astor, 
what  will  you  do  ?" 

"  Throw  myself  on  the  hospitality  of  Monsieur  de  Cas- 
tellan." 


132  FOR    HONOR   AXD    LIFE 

"  But  on  Wednesday  night,  when  every  house  in  Paris  is 
to  be  searched  from  top  to  bottom  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  shall  find  some  corner  to  hide  in,  or  I  might  walk 
the  streets,  or  sleep  under  a  bush  in  the  Champs-Elyse'es 
or  Pare  Monceau.  And  a  great  deal  may  happen  before 
Wednesday  night." 

The  end  of  it  was  that,  after  a  cordial  leave-taking  with 
Verner,  I  set  out  for  the  Rue  Cle'ry,  saw  Langbein,  and  had 
an  interview  with  M.  de  Castellan,  who  kindly  offered  me 
my  old  room  under  the  tiles,  provided  I  would  share  it  with 
a  wounded  soldier  of  the  regiment,  whom  he  had  taken  in. 

With  this  proposal  I  gladly  closed.  A  fellow-soldier  is 
none  the  less  a  comrade  because  when  you  carried  the 
colors  he  carried  a  musket ;  and  misfortune,  which  is  said 
to  make  strange  bedfellows,  effaces  social  distinctions. 

Nevertheless,  M.  de  Castellan  left  me  under  no  illusion 
as  to  the  dangers  that  confronted  me.  Two  nights  at  the 
utmost  could  he  keep  us — the  wounded  Switzer  and  myself 
— in  his  house.  No  corner  of  it  was  likely  to  remain  un- 
searched,  and  he  feared  that  my  plan  of  walking  the  streets 
or  lurking  in  the  Champs-Elyse'es  was  impracticable;  but  he 
would  make  inquiry,  and  do  his  best  to  find  me  a  shelter 
from  the  storm  elsewhere. 

When  we  were  done  talking,  my  great-hearted  host  ac- 
companied me  to  the  garret,  and,  after  introducing  me  to  my 
bedfellow,  left  us  to  ourselves.  His  name  was  Morgen.  He 
had  served  in  Von  Hurler's  company,  and  marched  with 
the  second  column  through  the  gardens  to  the  Assembly. 
When  the  king  ordered  the  remnant  of  the  regiment  to 
lay  down  their  arms,  a  few,  of  whom  Morgen  was  one,  re- 
fused to  surrender,  yet  contrived  to  escape.  Chased  by 
the  mob,  they  found  an  asylum  in  the  Hotel  Dieu,  where 
the  chief  physician  made  them  strip  and  go  to  bed,  so  that 
when  their  pursuers  came  to  look  for  them  they  were  un- 


IN    PERIL  133 

able  to  distinguish  the  fugitives  from  the  patients.  The 
former  were  afterwards  provided  with  plain  clothes  and 
dismissed,  and,  being  private  soldiers,  and  not  especially- 
singled  out  for  pursuit,  had  no  great  difficulty  in  losing 
themselves  in  the  crowd.  Morgen's  wounds,  though  not 
serious,  rendered  it  necessary  for  him  to  lie  perdu  for  a 
while,  and  he  found  a  hiding-place  with  his  sweetheart,  who 
lived  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Antoine.  But  the  house  becom- 
ing "suspect,"  he  had  to  seek  fresh  quarters,  and  was  finally 
harbored  by  Langbein  (who  came  from  the  same  canton)  in 
the  garret — of  course,  by  leave  of  its  owner. 

Morgen's  hurts,  though  not  disabling,  were  obvious.  His 
right  ear  had  been  shot  off,  and  one  side  of  his  head  and 
face  ploughed  with  a  bullet,  and  the  plasters  and  bandages 
which  he  was  forced  to  wear  were  apt  to  attract  attention 
and  suggest  inquiry  as  to  how  he  had  come  by  his  wounds, 
else  had  he  tried  to  obtain  employment  until  such  time 
as  he  could  get  away  from  Paris. 

I  was  delighted  to  learn  from  Morgen  that  there  was 
good  reason  to  believe  that  Sternberg  and  Waldteufel  had 
survived  the  slaughter  of  the  10th.  According  to  the  ac- 
count he  had  heard  they  were  run  to  ground  in  the  cellars 
of  the  Ministry  of  Marine,  where  some  kind  soul  concealed 
them  and  reclothed  them.  As  to  how  they  fared  afterwards 
Morgen  had  no  information.  Yet  he  hoped  for  the  best. 
No  news  was  good  news.  If  they  had  been  taken,  he 
should  have  heard. 

Shortly  before  noon  next  morning  M.  de  Castellan  came 
to  us  with  a  deeply  troubled  face.  The  municipality  had 
made  known  in  what  manner  they  proposed  to  execute  the 
Assembly's  decree  for  a  general  domiciliary  visit.  It  was 
to  begin  that  day,  and  the  nets  were  being  so  widely  spread 
and  their  meshes  so  tightly  drawn  that,  as  the  Jacobins  be- 
lieved, no  royalist,  aristocrat  or  fugitive  could  avoid  capture. 


134  FOR    HONOR   AND   LIFE 

With  the  tocsin  sounding  and  drummers  of  the  National 
Guard  beating  the  rappel,  every  citizen  was  to  betake  him- 
self to  his  domicile,  the  streets  were  to  be  cleared,  traffic 
stopped,  and  all  shops  and  public  institutions  closed.  The 
sittings  of  the  Assembly  and  the  courts  were  to  be  sus- 
pended. A  line  of  posts  was  to  be  established  beyond  the 
barriers,  in  order  to  catch  anybody  who  might  pass  them. 
Armed  boats  were  to  traverse  the  river,  and  the  public 
buildings  on  its  banks  to  be  garrisoned.  Armed  sans-cu- 
lottes  were  to  be  stationed  at  street  corners,  with  orders  to 
arrest  whosoever  might  appear  in  the  streets  after  a  certain 
hour.  Battues  were  to  be  made  in  all  the  woods,  parks, 
and  walks,  and  every  individual  found  in  them  haled  off  to 
prison.  Every  man  or  woman  found  in  a  friend's  house 
was  to  be  treated  in  like  fashion,  and  citizens  were  ordered 
to  facilitate  the  search  by  a  general  illumination  of  their 
dwellings.  The  visits,  conducted  by  several  hundred  groups 
of  inquisitors  armed  to  the  teeth,  were  to  begin  at  ten 
o'clock  that  night  and  continue  forty-eight  hours. 

The  government  counted  on  taking  ten  thousand  weapons 
and  bagging  ten  thousand  royalists. 

"  I  expected  that  the  search  would  be  rigorous,"  ob- 
served M.  de  Castellan,  when  he  had  told  us  these  things, 
"but  this  exceeds  my  worst  anticipations." 

We  looked  at  each  other  in  consternation.  It  seemed  as 
though  escape  were  impossible.  Nevertheless,  I  refused  to 
abandon  hope.  There  was  surely  a  corner  somewhere  into 
which  we  could  disappear  for  a  couple  of  days. 

"The  roof!"  I  exclaimed.     "Why  cannot  we  go  on  the 
and  hide  behind  the  chimney-stacks?" 

"  Because  we  arc  not  sure  that  the  visitors  will  come 
during  the  night,  and  after  sunrise  detection  would  be  in- 
evitable." 

nldn't  we  get  inside  a  church  ?" 


IN    PERIL  135 

"  No  ;  the  churches  will  be  shut  up,  and  even  the  floating 
wash-houses  on  the  Seine  are  to  be  occupied  by  sans- 
culottes." 

"  But  surely  there  is  a  hay-loft  or  a  cellar,  or  some  such 
place.  I  am  not  without  money ;  I  could  make  it  worth  a 
man's  while." 

"  It  would  take  a  good  deal  of  money  to  tempt  a  man  to 
risk  his  liberty,  probably  his  life.  Besides,  he  who  took 
money  to  shelter  you  might  take  money  to  betray  you  ;  and 
hay-lofts  and  cellars  will  be  more  rigorously  explored  than 
less  likely  hiding-places.  The  safest  place  is  where  nobody 
would  think  of  hiding,  therefore  of  seeking.  The  main 
difficulty  is  that  it  will  not  be  safe  for  you  to  go  out  before 
dark,  and  that  by  ten  o'clock  we  must  all  be  in  -  doors. 
However,  I  shall  do  my  best." 

With  that  M.  de  Castellan  went  on  his  errand,  and  he 
had  so  many  friends  and  so  much  influence,  and  my  con- 
fidence in  him  was  so  great,  that  I  entertained  little  doubt 
that  he  would  succeed  in  finding  a  haven  where  we  might 
hope  to  weather  the  storm. 

Yet  we  had  an  anxious  time  after  his  departure,  being 
continually  on  the  alert  and  in  a  fever  of  suspense.  I  was 
also  concerned  about  Angelique  and  the  vicomte,  of  whom 
I  had  not  heard  for  several  days,  and  M.  de  Castellan  could 
tell  me  nothing. 

Twice  during  the  day  Langbein  came  with  food.  The 
second  time  he  reported  that  Paris  appeared  to  be  paralyzed 
with  fear.  Sans-culottes,  gendarmes,  and  National  Guards 
were  marching  about  in  all  directions,  no  women  and  few 
civilians  were  to  be  seen  in  the  streets,  and  though  the 
order  for  closing  business  establishments  and  suspending 
traffic  had  not  yet  been  enforced,  people  were  putting  up 
their  shutters,  and  neither  fiacre  nor  cabriolet  was  to  be 
obtained  for  love  or  money. 


136  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

Between  eight  and  nine  Langbein  came  for  the  third 
time,  and  announced  that  M.  de  Castellan  was  below,  and 
would  be  pleased  to  see  us  at  once. 

We  ran  down-stairs  with  an  indescribable  sense  of  relief, 
for  we  had  just  come  to  the  conclusion  that  we  should  have 
to  turn  out  and  find  a  refuge  for  ourselves  or  face  the  alter- 
native ;  and  we  were  resolved  not  to  be  taken  alive. 

"Come  along ;  we  have  not  a  moment  to  lose !"  exclaimed 
M.  de  Castellan,  as  soon  as  he  saw  me. 

'■  You  have  found  a  place,  then  ?"  I  asked. 

"  I  think  so.  We  shall  see.  And  now  silence  in  the 
ranks,  if  you  please.     Allans  !     Step  out !" 

The  streets  were  thronged  with  armed  emissaries  of  the 
Commune,  guards  were  at  every  corner,  drums  beating,  bugles 
blowing,  aides-de-camp  and  orderlies  hurrying  to  and  fro, 
every  door  closed,  all  windows  alight.  It  seemed  as  though 
Paris  had  been  taken  by  assault  and  the  foe  were  in  full 
possession. 

Fearing  we  should  be  arrested,  I  kept  my  hand  on  my 
pistol,  and  whispered  to  Morgen,  who  was  also  armed,  to  be 
ready  for  whatever  might  befall.  But  nobody  troubled  us, 
probably  because  we  went  on,  looking  neither  to  the  right 
nor  left,  and  in  part,  no  doubt,  because  M.  de  Castellan,  who 
had  an  imposing  presence  and  wore  his  sword,  looked  like 
a  man  in  authority. 

We  made  straight  for  the  river,  down  the  Rue  du  Mail 

and  the  Rue  des  Bons  Enfants  and  across  the  Carrousel, 

that  place  of  terrible  memories.      When  we   reached   the 

I '1  nit    Royal   our  conductor,  pointing  to  a  spot    near   the 

:,  deep  in  shade,  bade  us  wait  there  until  he  returned. 

We  waited  a  long  time,  and,  as  sans-culottes  were  con- 
tinually passing  and  repassing,  at  times  almost  touching 
us,  were  in  imminent  danger ;  and  I  was  suggesting  that 
we    had    better   get   under    the   thwarts    of   a    small    boat 


IN    PERIL  137 

which  was  moored  to  the  bank  when  M.  de  Castellan  reap- 
peared. 

"  Rue  du  Bac,  third  gateway,  right,"  he  whispered,  and 
then  hurried  away. 

The  clocks  were  striking  the  last  quarter  before  ten,  and 
he  had  said  all  that  was  necessary. 


CHAPTER    XIX 
THE    RAVEN 

We  crossed  the  bridge  and  were  entering  the  Rue  du  Bac 
when  me  met  three  sans-culottes,  who  motioned  us  to  stop, 
and  barred  the  way. 

••  Whither  are  you  going  ?"  demanded  one  of  them. 

"  To  our  lodgings,  a  little  farther  on,"  quoth  I,  civilly. 

••  No,  you  are  not.  You  are  going  with  us.  Consider 
yourselves  under  arrest." 

"  Why,  it  is  not  ten  o'clock." 

"  All  but ;  and  our  business  is  to  act,  not  to  argue.  Will 
you  go  quietly,  or  shall  we  make  you  ?" 

It  was  all  I  could  do  to  refrain  from  chastising  the  fellow 
for  his  insolence  as  he  deserved ;  but  knowing  that  violence 
just  then  would  be  highly  impolitic,  I  put  a  restraint  on  my- 
self, and,  showing  my  pistol,  answered  even  more  courteously 
than  before  : 

•As  our  arrest  before  ten  o'clock  would  be  illegal,  we 
shall  deem  it  our  duty  to  resist.  But  we  are  quiet  citizens 
on  our  way  home,  and  I  think  it  will  be  worth  your  while 
to  let  us  go  in  peace.  A  hundred  francs  are  not  to  be 
picked  up  at  every  street  corner,"  slipping  paper  money  of 
that  value  into  his  hand. 

■•  My  faith,  I  believe  you.  I  believe,  too,  that  you  are 
good  patriots;  so  depart  in  peace,  according  to  your  desire, 
and  get  home  quickly,  lest  you  fall  in  with  a  less  complai- 
sant patrol." 

Five  minutes  later  I  knocked  at  the  wicket  of  the  third 
•IV,    and    before    I    took   my   hand    from    the    knocker 


THE    RAVEN  139 

the  gate  was  cautiously  opened  by  a  stout  man  in  porter's 
livery. 

"  From  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Monsieur  de  Castellan,"  said  I. 

"  Enter  quickly  and  follow  me,  but  ask  no  questions. 
There  is  no  time  for  talk.     Hark  !" 

The  clocks  were  going  ten,  and  at  the  last  stroke  a  great  din 
broke  out  all  over  Paris — a  din  of  clanging  bells,  resounding 
drums,  and  far-reaching  bugle-calls,  the  measured  tread  of 
marching  battalions,  and  the  hoarse  murmur  of  many  voices. 

"Hark!"  repeated  the  porter.  "This  is  going  to  be  a 
dreadful  night." 

He  took  us  across  the  court-yard  into  a  garden,  where  was 
a  detached  flat-roofed  building,  which  might  be  a  billiard- 
room,  summer-house,  or  conservatory,  or  all  three.  The 
porter  unhooked  a  ladder  from  the  garden-wall,  and  reared 
it  against  the  building ;  then  bade  us  mount  and  lie  down 
on  the  roof.  It  did  not  seem  a  very  promising  hiding- 
place  ;  but  remembering  that  beggars  cannot  be  choosers,  we 
mounted,  without  more  ado. 

When  we  were  on  the  top,  the  porter  wished  us  good- 
night and  went  his  way,  carrying  off  the  ladder.  The  roof 
was  of  lead,  and  surrounded  by  a  ledge  or  cornice  barely 
high  enough  to  hide  us  when  we  lay  prone,  and,  as  we  soon 
found,  it  made  a  cruelly  hard  bed. 

But  I  did  not  see  any  immediate  necessity  to  lie  down, 
and  was  saying  to  Morgen  that  I  hoped  the  concierge 
would  return  and  throw  us  up  a  few  sacks,  or  what  not, 
that  might  serve  as  bedclothes,  when  we  were  startled  by 
a  series  of  knocks  at  the  entrance-gate  that  sounded  like 
so  many  pistol-shots. 

"  They  are  come,"  said  I ;  and  down  we  went  with  one 
accord,  and  began  the  longest  spell  of  star-gazing  in  which 
either  of  us  had  ever  indulged. 


1^0  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

A  minute  or  two  later  we  heard  voices  and  the  clash  of 
arms,  and  half  a  dozen  men,  as  I  judged  by  the  noise  they 
made,  entered  the  garden  and  surveyed  our  refuge. 

"I  don't  think  there  is  anybody  hidden  hereabouts," 
said  one  of  them,  probably  the  "  municipal "  in  command 
of  the  search-party.  "But  I  must  obey  orders;  so  you, 
Cornichon,  will  remain  here  until  you  are  relieved,  and  see 
that  nobody  either  enters  or  leaves  the  garden.  If  anybody 
who  cannot  give  the  password  should  make  the  attempt, 
and,  on  being  summoned,  refuse  to  surrender,  you  will 
shoot.     You  understand  ?" 

"  Perfectly." 

"  It  is  well.  I  shall  post  another  sentry  in  the  court-yard 
and  a  third  at  the  gate,  so  you  will  have  plenty  of  help 
within  call,  and  the  firing  of  your  pistol  will  inform  the 
patrol  outside  that  a  fugitive  is  on  the  run." 

When  the  "  municipal  "  had  given  these  instructions,  he 
left  the  garden,  and  the  sentry  began  his  monotonous 
march,  which  never  took  him  more  than  twenty  or  thirty 
paces  from  the  summer-house,  and  whenever  he  intermitted 
his  walk  with  a  halt,  leaned  against  the  wall  two  yards  from 
where  we  lay.  I  could  hear  him  breathe  and  mutter  to 
himself — occasionally  laugh  and  swear,  as  the  humor  took 
him  ;  from  which  I  inferred  that  Cornichon  was  a  man  of 
imagination — possibly  a  poet. 

My  first  idea  was  that  the  house  would  be  searched  either 
at  once  or  shortly;  but  as  time  went  on,  and  Cornichon 
remained  at  his  post  —  albeit  with  waning  patience,  and 
swearing  much  oftener  than  he  laughed— I  concluded  that 
the  inquisitors  were  gone  elsewhere,  and  had  set  a  guard 
about  the  premises  to  prevent  ingress  or  egress  during  their 
absence,  which  I  fervently  hoped  would  be  brief ;  for  as 
the  night  wore  on  the  air  grew  chilly,  and  we  were  thinly 
clad    and   the    lead   desperately  cold.      To   make    matters 


THE   RAVEN  I41 

worse,  we  dared  neither  move  not  converse  lest  we  should 
attract  the  sentry's  attention.  Yet  all  these  perils  and  dis- 
comforts did  not  suffice  to  prevent  Morgen  from  falling  into 
an  occasional  snooze  and  showing  an  alarming  tendency  to 
snore,  which  I  had  to  repress  by  kicks  and  pinches. 

Meanwhile  the  discordant  noises  with  which  the  night 
had  begun  went  on — now  rising,  now  falling,  yet  never  ceas- 
ing— mingled  at  intervals  with  fitful  musket-shots,  fired,  as 
we  imagined,  at  suspected  royalists  who  refused  to  surren- 
der or  were  trying  to  escape. 

So  the  night  wore  on,  yet  slowly  withal,  as  though  it 
would  never  end,  and,  as  if  to  increase  our  wretchedness, 
there  fell  shortly  before  dawn  a  smart  shower  of  rain  which 
wet  us  to  the  skin,  and,  owing  to  some  obstruction  in  the 
gutters,  did  not  run  off  the  roof,  so  that  we  had  water  both 
under  and  over  us. 

About  this  time  the  sentry  was  relieved,  which  we  took 
as  a  sign  that  our  vigil  was  drawing  to  a  close. 

Two  men  came  into  the  garden,  and  in  the  voice  of  one 
of  them  I  recognized  the  "municipal"  who  had  given  Cor- 
nichon  his  instructions. 

"  My  poor  Cornichon,  I  am  very  sorry,"  said  he.  "  I 
gave  orders  for  you  to  be  relieved  at  two  o'clock,  but,  owing 
to  some  misunderstanding — " 

Here  Cornichon,  who  was  much  more  sans-culotte  than 
soldier,  broke  in  with  angry  exclamations  and  swore  with 
great  energy,  only  desisting  when  the  officer  bade  him  go 
into  the  house  and  get  something  to  eat  and  drink.  He 
added  that  the  search  was  just  beginning,  and  that  as  the 
owners  and  occupiers  were  ladies,  it  would  be  strange  if 
they  did  not  find  a  man  "hidden  away  somewhere." 

The  two  quitted  the  garden  in  company,  leaving  the  new 
sentry  at  his  post,  and  soon  the  kindly  sun  arose  and 
cheered  us  with  his  rays.     But  the  light  brought  with  it 


142  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

fresh  alarms.  The  ledge  round  the  roof  was  so  low  that 
the  inadvertent  raising  of  a  hand  might  be  fatal,  and  we 
presently  discovered  that  we  could  be  seen  from  the  dormer- 
window  of  a  neighboring  house.  And  then,  as  though  this 
were  not  bad  enough,  a  tame  raven,  coming  from  I  know 
not  where,  must  needs  alight  on  the  summer-house  and 
begin  croaking  and  hopping  and  circling  over  our  heads,  as 
if  it  were  bent  on  betraying  us  to  the  enemy. 

Fortunately,  the  sentry  was  too  dense  to  take  a  hint  or 
understand  aught  save  plain  French.  Nevertheless,  the 
raven  persevered,  and  so  angered  me  that  I  risked  my  life 
in  a  vain  attempt  to  wring  his  neck. 

After  a  while  the  searchers  came  into  the  garden,  and,  as 
we  gathered  from  their  exclamations,  thoroughly  explored 
it,  without,  however,  finding  anything.  Neither  had  they 
found  aught  compromising  in  the  house. 

When  they  reached  our  billet  the  "municipal"  told  his 
men  to  look  inside,  which  they  did,  and  presently  reported 
that  it  contained  only  plants,  a  few  chairs,  and  an  old 
billiard-table.  The  walls  and  floors  seemed  to  be  solid, 
and  there  were  no  receptacles  where  weapons  or  persons 
could  be  stowed  away. 

"  I  didn't  suppose  there  were.  Nobody  would  be  such  a 
fool  as  to  hide  there,  much  less  on  the  roof,"  said  the  "mu- 
nicipal,'' carelessly.  "  However,  we  may  as  well  look  ;  and 
then  we  can  lake  our  oath  that  we  have  left  no  corner  un- 
tied." 

Seeing  that  the  supreme  moment  was  at  hand,  Morten 
and  I  cocked  our  pistols,  and  agreed,  in  a  suppressed 
whisper,  that  I  should  fire  first. 

Meanwhile  the  raven  was  perched  on  the  cornice,  with 
his  head  on  one  side,  quietly  observant  of  the  s<  ene  1 

"is  there  a  ladder  anywhere  about?"  continued  the 
"municipal."    "Ask  the  concierge.     But  no!     We  can  do 


THE   RAVEN  143 

without.  You  are  a  tall  fellow,  Simon.  Plant  yourself 
against  the  wall,  and  let  Cornichon  get  on  your  shoulders. 
A  glance  will  be  enough." 

On  this  the  raven,  to  our  unspeakable  amazement, 
flapped  his  wings,  and  at  the  top  of  his  queer  voice 
croaked,  "  Vive  le  roi  /    Vive  le  roi  !    Vive  le  roi  /" 

The  sans-culottes  laughed  boisterously,  and  their  chief, 
after  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  shouted  excitedly : 

"  That  confounded  bird  belongs  to  some  royalist.  Shoot 
it !"  Whereupon  the  men  blazed  away  unanimously,  and  a 
dozen  bullets  whizzed  over  our  heads,  all  wide  of  the  mark, 
while  the  cause  of  the  commotion  flew  away  croaking, 
defiantly,  "  Vive  le  roi  f 

"  Idiots  !  Triple  brutes  !  I  did  not  mean  you  were  all  to 
shoot,"  exclaimed  the  now  exasperated  "municipal."  "We 
shall  have  all  the  Blues  and  sans-culottes  in  the  quarter 
here.  And  what  will  they  think  of  us  ?  Bird  -  shooting 
when  the  country  is  in  danger !" 

"  And  nothing  bagged  !"  put  in  Cornichon. 
"  And  nothing  bagged.  It  is  simply  disgraceful.  Twelve 
shots,  and  the  raven  not  a  feather  the  worse.  I  am  ashamed 
of  you.  Run  into  the  Rue  du  Bac,  Cornichon,  and  tell  the 
people  there  it  was  all  a  mistake — a  false  alarm  ;  they  need 
not  come,  and—     We  will  go  ;  let  us  clear  out." 

And,  to  our  great  contentment,  they  did  clear  out.  But 
whether  the  raven's  opportune  diversion  had  saved  our 
lives  or  merely  secured  us  a  short  respite  remained  to  be 
seen.  The  too  conscientious  "  municipal  "  and  his  sans- 
culottes might  return  and  complete  their  work,  and  we  had 
to  consider  whether  it  were  better  to  stay  where  we  were  a 
while  longer,  or  make  an  effort  to  escape  while  the  coast 
was  clear. 


CHAPTER    XX 
A   NEW   ACQUAINTANCE 

"  How  can  we  get  away  while  so  many  of  these  cutthroats 
are  about?"  asked  Morgen.  "The  streets  are  swarming 
with  them.  We  should  be  pounced  upon  at  once  ;  whereas 
if  we  stay  here — " 

"  And  how  if  the  '  municipal '  and  his  men  come  back  and 
have  a  look  up  here  ?"  said  I. 

"  Let  us  hope  they  won't.'' 

'•  By  all  means.  Let  us  get  down  —  it  isn't  much  of  a 
drop ;  let  us  get  down  and  hide  in  the  billiard-room,  which 
they  have  explored,  and  then  if  they  return  and  try  the 
roof,  they  will  draw  blank.  Anyhow,  I  am  going.  You  can 
please  yourself." 

But  I  was  so  stiff  with  the  cold  and  the  rain  and  the  long 
lying  on  my  leaden  couch  that  I  could  hardly  move.  My 
limbs  were  benumbed,  my  back  ached  horribly,  and  it  was 
all  I  could  do  to  get  up.  Morgen  was  even  worse.  The 
cold  had  got  into  his  bones.  He  groaned  audibly,  and  was 
so  stiff  withal  that  I  had  to  help  him  to  rise. 

I  dropped  first,  and  alighted  safely.  Morgen  came  down 
clumsily  and  fell  on  his  back,  so  that  I  had  to  set  him  on 
his  legs  and  help  him  into  the  billiard-room,  which  we  no 
sooner  entered  than  the  sound  of  approaching  footsteps 
again  fell  on  our  ears,  sharpened  by  apprehension  and 
anxiety.  Not  daring  to  show  my  face  at  the  window,  I 
d  through  the  keyhole,  and  to  my  great  gladness  spied 
the  concierge —  alone.  lie  came  opposite  the  door,  and, 
raising  his  head,  said,  in  a  loud  whisper: 


A    NEW   ACQUAINTANCE  145 

"  Are  you  still  there,  gentlemen  ?" 

"  No,  we  are  here,"  I  answered,  in  a  voice  hoarse  and 
hollow  with  cold  and  exhaustion,  whereupon  the  concierge 
jumped  like  a  shot  man,  and  looked  as  scared  as  if  he  had 
seen  something  uncanny. 

"  A  thousand  thunders !  How  the  devil  did  you  get 
there  ?"  he  exclaimed. 

I  opened  the  door  and  told  him. 

"  You  did  quite  right  to  get  down,  although  I  don't  think 
the  brigands  are  likely  to  return,"  said  he.  "Why  should 
they  ?  They  have  not  left  a  corner  unsearched.  They 
even  tapped  the  walls,  looked  under  the  beds,  and  over- 
hauled the  water-butts.  And  as  I  have  double-bolted  the 
front  gate,  they  cannot  take  us  by  surprise,  so  come  in  and 
have  something  warm ;  you  look  as  though  you  needed  it." 

Our  looks  did  not  belie  our  feelings.  We  accepted  the 
proposal  with  heartfelt  thanks,  and  followed  our  conductor 
to  his  lodge,  where  he  presently  set  before  us  a  breakfast 
of  coffee  and  rolls.  But  we  were  not  to  enjoy  it  undis- 
turbed, for  even  as  I  raised  the  cup  to  my  lips  there  came  a 
great  knocking  at  the  outer  gate. 

"  A  thousand  thunders !  I  do  believe  the  beggars  are 
back  again,"  said  the  porter.  "Get  onto  my  bed  in  the  al- 
cove, and  draw  the  curtains." 

Which  we  did  quickly,  and  the  porter  went  to  open  the 
gate. 

"  What  now  ?  You  are  surely  not  going  to  make  another 
search  ?"  we  heard  him  say. 

"  Only  the  roof  of  the  billiard-room,  or  summer-house,  or 
whatever  you  call  it,"  replied  the  intruder.  "  It  is  all  non- 
sense. There  is  nobody  there ;  we  know  that  well  enough. 
But  Citizen  Blaize,  our  '  municipal,'  you  know,  is  so  con- 
foundedly particular,  and  that  cursed  raven  put  it  out  of 
his  head  for  a  moment.     So  he  has  sent  me  back,  the  devil 

10 


146  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

take  him,  as  though  I  were  not  tired  to  death  already.  Is 
there  a  ladder  anywhere  about  ?" 

"  Oh  dear,  yes  ;  I  can  accommodate  you  with  a  ladder. 
Come  along."  The  two  went  off  together,  to  return  in  five 
minutes  laughing  and  joking. 

"  I  hope  Citizen  Blaize  will  be  satisfied  now,"  said  the 
concierge, 

"At  any  rate,  he  ought  to  be,"  returned  the  gendarme. 
"  He  may  safely  take  his  oath  that  there  isn't  a  ci-devant 
on  these  premises — except  your  mistress,  and  she  doesn't 
count.  The  republic  is  not  afraid  of  old  women.  While 
as  for  arms,  we  haven't  found  so  much  as  a  pistol.  We 
shall  trouble  you  no  more,  Citizen  Concierge." 

And  then  the  wicket  went  to  with  a  bang,  the  bolts  were 
shot,  and  as  Morgen  and  myself  emerged  from  the  alcove 
the  porter  returned  to  his  lodge. 

"Now  you  may  finish  your  breakfast  with  easy  minds," 
said  he.  "  A  narrow  shave,  though.  15ut  for  that  blessed 
raven  we  should  all  three  have  been  walked  off  to  the  Ab- 
baye,  or  some  such  infernal  place.  I  never  thought  they 
would  want  to  search  the  roof,  and  I  put  you  there  partly 
for  that  reason,  but  mainly  because  if  you  had  been  lagged 
the  marchioness  would  not  have  been  compromised." 

"  The  marchioness  !     Who  is  she  ?" 

"  Madame  la  Marquise  de  Malartie  is  the  owner  of  this 
house  and  my  mistress,  and  I,  Auguste  Rod,  have  the  hon- 
or to  be  her  concierge  and  major-domo." 

"  Does  she  know  we  are  here  ?" 

"  Not  yet.  There  was  no  time  to  tell  her  last  night.  Mon- 
sieur de  I  lastellan  was  so  pressed  thai  I  had  to  act  on  my 
own  responsibility,  and  as  he  got  me  this  place  many  years 
md  is,  besides,  a  friend  of  the  family,  I  could  not  re- 
in." 

"  And  for  your  kindness  we  are  very  grateful,  Monsieur 


A   NEW   ACQUAINTANCE  147 

Rod.  You  have  rendered  us  a  service  that  we  shall  never 
forget.     But  what  will  Madame  la  Marquise  say  ?" 

"I  have  no  fear  on  that  score.  I  should  have,  though,  if 
I  turned  you  away.  She  is  a  brave  old  lady,  and,  though 
past  eighty,  as  high  spirited  as  a  young  girl.  Her  sons  and 
grandsons  emigrated  two  years  ago,  but  Madame  la  Marquise 
declined  either  to  accompany  or  follow  them.  She  says 
that  in  Paris  she  was  born  and  in  Paris  she  will  die.  You 
should  have  heard  her  talk  to  the  Blues.  She  told  them 
that  if  they  wanted  what  of  life  remained  to  her  they  might 
take  it.     She  had  had  more  than  her  share." 

We  went  on  talking  for  an  hour  or  more.  Rod  was  a 
genial  old  man,  and  mentioned,  among  other  things,  that  we 
need  be  under  no  apprehension  as  to  his  fellow-servants  ; 
they  were  both  trustworthy  and  discreet.  Moreover,  the 
household  was  small,  and  the  marchioness  neither  visited 
nor  received,  save  two  or  three  old  friends,  whose  calls  were 
few  and  far  between. 

This  was  satisfactory — in  a  sense.  We  were  safe  for  the 
moment ;  but  Rod  said  nothing  as  to  the  duration  of  our 
stay,  and  if  we  had  to  turn  out  while  the  streets  were  still 
thronged  with  sans-culottes  and  gendarmes,  we  should  sure- 
ly fall  into  their  hands.  On  the  other  hand,  as  he  had  kept 
his  promise  to  M.de  Castellan,  and  given  us  quarters  at  great 
risk  and  on  his  own  responsibility,  I  felt  that  it  would  not  be 
right  to  trespass  further  on  M.  Rod's  hospitality,  and  so  said. 

"  No,  no  ;  that  would  not  do  at  all,"  he  answered,  smiling. 
"  You  would  be  lagged  before  you  got  to  the  end  of  the  Rue 
du  Bac.  And  how  could  I  look  Monsieur  de  Castellan  in 
the  face  ?  No  ;  you  must  remain  with  us  until  the  visits 
are  over,  and  the  brigand  who  was  here  just  now  said  they 
would  go  on  for  at  least  twenty-four  hours  longer;  and  until 
they  are  over  it  won't  be  safe  for  anybody  who  isn't  either 
a  sans-culotte  or  a  Blue  to  show  his  nose  outside." 


143  FOR   HONOR   AND    LIFE 

After  a  while  the  concierge  left  us  to  ourselves,  and,  pres- 
ently returning,  said  that  he  had  informed  Madame  la  Mar- 
quise of  all  that  had  befallen,  and  that  she  would  be  pleased 
to  see  me  in  her  room  and  hear  an  account  of  my  advent- 
ures from  my  own  lips. 

So  to  her  room  we  went. 

Rod  announced  me  in  my  own  name,  which  I  had  confided 
to  him,  and  the  marchioness  received  me  with  the  high-bred 
courtesy  of  the  old  rkgime.  She  was  wonderfully  well  pre- 
served, and  had  no  doubt  once  been  eminently  handsome — 
was,  indeed,  handsome  still.  For  though  her  hair  was  white 
and  her  face  wrinkled,  her  cheeks  had  a  richer  color  than 
those  of  many  a  young  girl,  her  eyebrows,  like  her  eyes. 
were  black,  and  her  teeth  seemed  perfect;  but  she  was  four- 
score and  four,  and  appearances  are  sometimes  deceptive. 
Only  her  hearing  was  defective,  and  during  our  long  talk 
she  made  me  draw  my  chair  close  to  the  fauteuil  on  which 
she  reclined. 

Madame  de  Malartie  was  the  most  curious  lad)-,  young 
or  old,  I  ever  encountered.  After  relating  my  recent  ad- 
ventures, I  had  to  give  her  a  full  account  of  my  birth,  par- 
entage and  education,  and  answer  many  searching  questions 
in  relation  thereto.  When  she  had,  so  to  speak,  pumped 
me  dry,  she  took  a  pinch  of  snuff  from  a  richly  jewelled 
snuff-box.  and  reciprocated  my  confidences  by  telling  me 
much  about  her  family  and  herself,  the  which,  as  I  am  re- 
lating my  story,  not  hers,  I  need  not  repeat. 

Then  she  tapped  me  playfully  on  the  cheek,  and  said 
that  she  once  knew  somebody  whom  I  greatly  resembled, 
and  inquired  whether  Colonel  Balthazar  von  Astor,  who  was 
killed  at  Rosbach,  was  of  my  family. 

'•  lie  was  my  grandfather,  madame,"  said  I. 

"You  you  Colonel  von  Astor's  grandson !  Mon  Dieu, 
mon  diai,  how  time  Hies!     I  knew  him  well.     We  danced 


A    NEW   ACQUAINTANCE  1 49 

a  minuet  together  the  day  Louis  XV.  was  married— I 
dare  not  say  how  many  years  ago.  Yes,  we  were  good 
friends,  your  grandfather  and  I.  He  was  a  fine  young  fel- 
low in  those  days,  and  I  rather  think  he  admired  me." 

"  And  no  wonder.  His  grandson  admires  you  now,  ma- 
dame,"  quoth  I. 

"  So  you  can  pay  compliments,"  said  she,  with  a  smile 
which  showed  that  mine  had  not  displeased  her.  "  Well,  I 
dare  say  you  have  met  worse-looking  women  of  my  years. 
But  tell  me,  now  ;  is  there  not  some  young  girl  whom  you 
really  admire — in  your  heart  you  know  ?  How  about  this 
Mademoiselle  de  la  Tour,  of  whom  you  were  speaking? 
Ah,  I  can  read  in  your  eyes  that  I  have  guessed  aright. 
And  you  blush  !  Oh,  what  an  innocent  youth  !  In  my  time 
a  gentleman  of  your  age  could  no  more  blush  than  a  bronze 
statue.  I  must  make  the  young  lady's  acquaintance.  I  am 
sure  she  is  charming,  or  your  eyes  would  not  brighten  at 
the  mere  mention  of  her  name.  I  shall  call  on  her — trust 
me  to  find  a  pretext — and  bring  her  here.  I  am  sure  she 
is  dying  to  see  you  again.  I  know  that  if,  when  I  was  six- 
teen, it  had  been  my  good-fortune  to  save  the  life  of  a  hand- 
some young  soldier,  I  should  have  lost  my  heart  to  him." 

"  But  you  don't  know  Mademoiselle  de  la  Tour,"  I  stam- 
mered, in  confusion,  being  quite  taken  aback  by  the  mar- 
chioness's badinage  ;  yet  I  had  wit  enough  to  refrain  from 
saying  what  was  on  my  lips  :  "  She  is  not  that  sort  of  girl." 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,"  she  said,  laughing,  as  I  thought, 
rather  maliciously.  "  You  mean  that  this  demoiselle  is  per- 
fection and  not  as  other  demoiselles  are.  It  is  well  for  you 
to  think  so,  my  dear  sir.  But  I,  who  was  once  a  young  girl 
myself,  may  perhaps  know  more  of  the  female  heart  than 
you  ;  and  I  would  wager  my  best  fan  against  your  epaulettes 
that  the  beautiful  Angelique  is  this  very  moment  thinking 
of  her  handsome   soldier.     Why,  I  was  half  in  love  with 


150  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

Colonel  Balthazar,  and  he  and  I  were  never  the  hero  and 
heroine  of  a  romantic  adventure.  And  you  are  very  like 
him.  We  shall  see.  .  .  .  Now  remember  that  you  are  my 
guest  so  long  as  you  like  to  stay.  You  are  safer  here  than 
anywhere  else  in  Paris.  Those  Jacobins  won't  trouble  us 
any  more — for  the  present;  they  have  a  certain  respect  for 
me  because  I  did  not  emigrate  with  the  others,  and  I  dare 
say  they  think  I  am  too  old  to  conspire  against  their  pre- 
cious republic.  Rod  will  find  you  a  room;  there  are  enter- 
taining books  in  the  library,  you  may  walk  in  the  garden 
without  being  observed,  and  for  further  distraction  you  will 
have  my  company." 

I  protested  that  this  was  the  distraction  I  should  most 
prefer;  and  after  I  had  ascertained  that  Morgen  might  also 
have  quarters  in  the  house  until  it  was  safe  for  him  to  leave, 
the  interview  came  to  an  end. 


CHAPTER    XXI 
QUITE   OUT   OF   THE    QUESTION 

On  the  night  of  September  2d  began  the  massacre  of 
the  captives  who  had  been  marked  for  slaughter.  The  dom- 
iciliary visits  resulted  in  the  arrest  of  ten  thousand  persons, 
mostly  men,  of  whom  twelve  hundred  were  killed  in  cold 
blood  by  a  band  of  murderers  appointed  for  the  purpose 
and  paid  by  the  municipality.  Among  the  victims  were 
fifty-four  of  my  comrades  of  the  regiment.  They  met  their 
fate  as  became  men  who  had  done  their  duty  and  feared 
death  less  than  dishonor. 

Captains  von  Durler  and  Ghibelin,  and  a  few  others,  who 
had  evaded  capture  or  escaped  from  custody  on  the  10th, 
were  still  at  large,  and  eventually  succeeded  in  reaching 
England.  But,  so  far  as  I  know,  not  one  of  those  who 
were  put  in  prison  after  the  fall  of  the  Tuileries  was  left 
alive. 

With  my  own  eyes  I  saw  several  carts  pass  down  the  Rue 
du  Bac  laden  with  mutilated  and  uncoffined  corpses — a  sight 
which  grieved  me  so  bitterly  and  roused  in  my  mind  such  a 
tempest  of  impotent  rage  that  I  became  quite  sick,  and  had 
to  keep  my  room  for  two  days. 

To  my  grief  and  pain  were  added  the  tortures  of  sus- 
pense. I  knew  not  what  was  become  of  the  vicomte,  nor 
how  it  fared  with  Ange'lique  and  her  mother ;  and  while 
Paris  was  under  the  heel  of  martial  law  I  could  inquire 
neither  by  deputy  nor  in  person. 

The  massacres  ceased  on  the  6th;  people  breathed  again; 
and  on  the  following  day  I  received,  through  M.  de  Cas- 


152  FOR    HOXOR   AND    LIFE 

tellan,  a  note  from  De  Lancy,  asking  me  to  meet  him  an 
hour  after  sunset,  near  the  statue  of  Louis  XV.,  the  spot 
where  my  uncle  had  died,  and  where  the  scaffold  was  after- 
wards erected  on  which  Louis  XVI.  and  so  many  other  vic- 
tims of  the  Terror  perished.  A  strange  rendezvous!  Yet, 
being  the  last  place  in  Paris  where  the  police  would  look  for 
fugitives,  and  only  a  short  walk  from  the  Rue  du  Bac,  well 
chosen. 

We  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  each  other,  and  my  friend, 
putting  his  arm  silently  within  mine,  led  me  into  one  of  the 
darkest  alleys  of  the  Champs-Elysees. 

'•  Why  didn't  you  come  to  the  house  ?"  was  the  first  ques- 
tion I  asked  him. 

'•What  house  ?" 

"The  Marchioness  de  Malartie's." 

"  I  knew  not  you  were  there,  or  where  else,  so  wrote  un- 
der cover  to  Monsieur  de  Castellan,  for  I  felt  sure  that  the 
good-fortune  which  has  served  you  so  well  in  the  past  would 
not  desert  you  now." 

"  You,  too,  have  been  fortunate.  How  did  you  evade 
capture  ?" 

"  By  doing  as  you  did  :  hiding  in  the  chestnut-tree." 

'■And  Mademoiselle  de  la  Tour;  have  you  seen  her 
lately?     Is  she  well?" 

••  Poor  Angelique  !" 

'•  Poor  Angelique  !  Good  heavens  !  you  surely  don't  mean 
that  they  took  her — and — and — "  I  exclaimed,  in  dismay. 

"Softly,  my  friend,  softly!  Somebody  might  hear — and 
let  us  speak  English.  Angelique  lias  not  been  taken  by  the 
sans-culottes,  but  her  mother  has  been  taken  from  her  by 
death.  I  told  you  that  my  sister  had  never  recovered  from 
the  shock  of  her  husband's  murder.  The  shock  of  the  dom- 
iciliary visit  the  other  night  killed  her  outright.  She  is  to 
1  ried  to  morrow,  and  I  am  going  to  the  funeral." 


QUITE   OUT   OF   THE    QUESTION  1 53 

"  Are  you  mad  ?     They  will  take  you." 

"  I  don't  think  so.  I  shall  go  as  one  of  the  undertaker's 
assistants.  Yet,  whether  I  be  taken  or  not,  I  am  going ; 
and  we  are  not  nearly  in  so  much  danger  as  we  were  a  few 
days  ago.  The  police,  like  other  folk,  are  too  full  of  the 
domiciliary  visits  and  the  massacres  to  think  of  you  and  me. 
For  the  moment,  at  least,  we  are  out  of  their  minds.  Do 
you  know  that  at  every  crisis  of  the  revolution  the  thieves 
of  Paris  reap  a  rich  harvest  ?  The  police  are  too  much  oc- 
cupied and  preoccupied  to  look  after  them.  No,  I  am  not 
afraid  of  being  arrested.  My  chief  concern  is  for  my  niece. 
Her  parents  had  never  many  friends  in  Paris,  and  the  few 
they  had  are  either  dispersed  or  in  prison.  I  know  of  no- 
body to  whom  I  should  like  to  confide  her,  and  yet  she 
cannot  remain  in  that  house  alone." 

To  this  I  made  no  answer,  but  it  suggested  an  idea;  and 
after  a  short  silence  I  asked  De  Lancy — rather,  I  think,  to 
his  surprise,  for  the  question  seemed  absurdly  irrelevant — 
whether  he  knew  the  Marquise  de  Malartie. 

"  I  never  met  her,"  said  he ;  "  but  I  have  heard  of  her 
In  her  early  days  she  was  a  celebrated  beauty,  and  a  prom 
inent  figure  at  the  court  of  Louis  XV." 

"  She  belongs  to  a  good  family,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Well,  I  am  afraid  some  of  them  were  not  quite  as  good 
as  they  might  have  been.  But  it  b  an  ancient  and  distin- 
guished family — sixteen  quarterings,  at  the  least — and  I  be- 
lieve the  marchioness  is  a  fine  old  lady.     Why  do  you  ask?" 

"  As  she  is  my  hostess,  and  has  been  very  kind  to  me,  I 
naturally  want  to  know  something  about  her." 

"  Of  course.  Well,  you  may  take  my  word  for  it  that 
your  hostess  is  of  the  highest  respectability.  I  wish  I  could 
find  somebody  like  her  to  take 'charge  of  my  niece.  But  it 
was  not  to  discuss  my  family  affairs  that  I  brought  you  here. 
I  want  to  talk  to  you  about  the  project." 


154  F0R    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

"  You  are  still  resolved  to  carry  it  out,  then  ?" 

•  .More  so  than  ever,  because,  see  you,  we  shall  never 
have  so  favorable  a  time.  These  horrible  massacres  are 
sure  to  produce  a  reaction  ;  public  opinion  condemns  them  ; 
the  police  will  be  less  vigilant ;  the  Jacobins,  believing  that 
they  have  struck  terror  into  their  opponents,  less  virulent; 
moreover,  the  approaching  election  of  a  second  National 
.  cntion  will  keep  them  busy  with  their  own  affairs  for 
some  months  to  come.  Unfortunately,  several  of  the  friends 
on  whose  help  I  was  counting  are  either  dead  or  in  prison. 
But  there  are  enough  good  men  and  true  left  to  enable  us 
to  make  the  attempt  with  a  fair  chance  of  success,  and  in 
the  course  of  a  few  days,  when  our  preparations  are  further 
advanced  and  I  have  got  your  passport,  I  shall  ask  you  to 
proceed  to  Rouen,  possibly  to  Dieppe." 

And  then  De  Lancy  went  into  details — but  as,  except 
so  far  as  will  shortly  appear,  they  did  not  concern  me  per- 
sonally, I  need  not  set  them  down  here — and  unfolded  an 
nious  device  for  keeping  out  of  difficulties  during  the 
remainder  of  our  stay  in  Paris. 

In  the  meantimes  we  were  to  keep  in -doors,  but  after 
dark  it  would  be  quite  possible  to  traverse  Paris  from  end 
to  end  without  danger,  simply  by  steering  clear  of  patrols 
and  police-stations.  To  this  end  the  vicomte  had  marked 
on  a  map  of  the  town,  or  got  somebody  to  mark  for  him, 
the  parts  to  be  shunned;  for  only  the  principal  thorough- 
fares wen;  patrolled,  and  the  number  of  police-stations  being 
limited  and  their  whereabouts  known,  these  points  of  peril 
might,  with  a  little  contrivance  and  forethought,  be  generally 
avoided.  As  for  casual  rencounters  with  mobs  and  sans- 
culottes, we  should  have  to  lake  our  chance  like  everybody 
mkI,  if  necessary,  use  our  arms. 

De  Lancy  gave  me  the  map  and  advised  me  to  con  it 
fully,     lie  had  got  it  oil  by  heart. 


QUITE   OUT   OF   THE    QUESTION  155 

Then  we  separated ;  and  while  he  went  to  the  Villa  de  la 
Tour,  which  was  hard  by,  I  hied  me  to  my  quarters,  wishing 
he  had  asked  me  to  accompany  him,  and  pondering  a  scheme 
suggested  by  Angelique's  bereavement. 

The  next  day  I  had  the  honor  of  dining  with  my  hostess, 
and  set  it  going.  When  she  began,  as  usual,  to  rally  me 
about  Mile,  de  la  Tour,  I  mentioned  her  mother's  death, 
dwelling,  as  I  thought  at  the  time,  rather  eloquently  on  her 
desolate  condition  and  De  Lancy's  dilemma. 

Mme.  de  Malartie  rose  nobly  to  the  occasion. 

"  Poor  girl !  I  shall  call  on  her  to-morrow.  Her  mother 
was  a  De  Lancy,  you  say,"  she  said.  "And  her  father — 
wasn't  he  colonel  of  the  regiment  of  Anjou  ?" 

"  Very  likely.  I  know  he  was  a  soldier  and  fought  in 
several  campaigns." 

"  The  same.  I  felt  sure  I  was  right.  And  the  colonel's 
mother  was  a  De  Launai.  I  remember  her  well.  I  shall 
introduce  myself  to  Mademoiselle  de  la  Tour  as  an  old 
friend  of  her  grandmother's,  and  ask  her  to  make  my  house 
her  home  until  " — regarding  me  significantly — "  she  is  oth- 
erwise provided  for." 

Albeit  it  suited  my  purpose  to  feign  ignorance  of  the 
marchioness's  meaning,  I  saw  what  she  was  driving  at,  and 
began  to  suspect  that  the  old  lady  was  an  inveterate  match- 
maker. But  she  was  going  too  fast,  since,  though  Angelique 
was  a  charming  girl,  to  whom  I  was  greatly  obliged  and 
whom  I  greatly  admired,  I  refused  to  admit,  even  to  myself, 
that  I  had  fallen  in  love  with  her. 

So  soon  as  I  got  back  to  England  I  meant  to  enter  the 
British  army.  After  what  I  had  gone  through,  my  father 
would  surely  waive  his  objection  to  buying  me  a  commis- 
sion— I  might  even  obtain  one  without  purchase.  Soldier- 
ing was  my  passion,  and  Colonel  Maillardoz  had  said,  one 
day  at  mess,  that  a  young  soldier  had  no  business  to  weaken 


156  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

his  nerve  by  taking  a  wife.  My  uncle  went  even  further: 
lie  held  that  a  soldier  ought  not  to  marry  until  he  was  good 
for  nothing  else — that  is  to  say,  until  he  was  either  invalided 
or  retired  on  half-pay. 

With  these  opinions  I  fully  agreed  at  the  time,  and  tried 
to  persuade  myself  that  I  held  them  still.  I  liked  Angelique 
immensely  ;  and  had  we  been  a  little  older,  and  my  position 
less  perilous —  But  no,  that  was  quite  out  of  the  question. 
ung  soldier  with  his  way  to  make  had  no  business  to 
think  of  love  and  marriage.  Besides,  what  would  my  father 
and  mother  say  ?  "  Quite  out  of  the  question,"  I  repeated, 
resolutely,  yet  somewhat  ruefully  withal.  But  there  was  no 
reason  why  I  should  not  try  to  console  Angelique  by  being 
a  brother  to  her — a  devoted  brother.  Yes,  that  was  it ;  we 
would  be  brother  and  sister.     Nothing  less,  nothing  more. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

KNIGHTS    OF   THE    DAGGER 

Mme.  de  Malartie's  mission  met  with  the  success 
which  it  deserved.  Mile,  de  la  Tour  and  the  Vicomte 
de  Lancy  accepted  her  proposal  with  many  expressions 
of  gratitude  and  pleasure,  and  on  the  following  day  Ange- 
lique  took  up  her  abode  in  the  Rue  du  Bac.  But  she 
was  greatly  changed,  poor  girl,  and  the  sadness  of  her 
looks  cut  me  to  the  heart.  Her  face  was  pale  and  worn, 
her  eyes  bespoke  deep  sorrow,  and  every  now  and  then 
tears  filled  them  and  trembled  on  her  long  lashes  like  dew- 
drops  on  blades  of  grass.  The  old  brightness  and  alertness 
which  had  captivated  my  fancy  were  under  a  cloud,  and  she 
looked  as  quiet  and  subdued  as  a  nun  who  has  just  taken 
the  veil. 

Yet  her  face  was  still  lovely;  to  me  its  pathetic  expres- 
sion seemed  a  charm  the  more,  and  roused  a  tumult  in  my 
breast  which,  had  Angelique  been  less  reserved  and  circum- 
stances more  propitious,  might  have  been  immediately  fatal 
to  my  soldierly  resolve. 

I  pitied  her  now  as  much  as  I  admired  her  before,  and 
pity,  they  say,  is  akin  to  love.  But  she  chilled  my  ardor 
with  short  answers,  spoken  with  averted  eyes,  and  behaved 
so  like  a  typical  young  girl  that  I  began  to  think  I  had 
either  made  a  wrong  estimate  of  her  character  or  that  my 
society  was  disagreeable  to  her,  and  ended  by  becoming  as 
cold  and  distant  as  herself.  It  was  evident  that  she  did  not 
care  for  me,  and  I  said  to  myself  that  I  did  not  care  for 
her.     Nevertheless,  I  was  continually  thinking  about  her 


1 5^>  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

and  watching  her — when  she  was  not  looking  ;  the  mere  rus- 
tle of  her  gown  made  my  heart  flutter,  to  my  great  annoyance 
and  despite  strenuous  efforts  to  be  as  indifferent  to  her  as 
she  seemed  to  me. 

Disappointed  with  Angelique  and  vexed  with  myself,  I 
yearned  for  change  and  excitement,  and  when,  after  a  much 
longer  delay  than  I  expected,  the  vicomte  looked  in  one 
evening  and  asked  me  to  go  out  for  a  walk,  I  knew  there 
was  something  in  the  wind,  and  assented  gladly. 

On  this  Angelique,  who  was  present,  threw  off  her  apathy 
and  became  again  the  Angelique  of  the  Villa  de  la  Tour. 

"Whither  are  you  going?"  she  asked,  anxiously. 

"  For  a  walk." 

"  And  for  something  more.  What  is  afoot  ?  You  are 
going  into  some  fresh  clanger.  Oh,  uncle,  haven't  you 
done  enough,  you  and  Monsieur  Astor  ?  Why  risk  your 
lives  in  a  hopeless  enterprise  ?" 

"We  are  not  going  to  risk  our  lives.  All  the  young 
Jacobin  bloods  and  a  vast  number  of  sans-culottes  have 
marched  to  the  frontier.  Paris  is  tranquil  and  the  streets 
are  safe.  We  are  merely  going  out  for  a  walk,  and  to  meet 
some  friends  to  whom  I  want  to  introduce  Monsieur  Astor. 
He  will  be  back  by  eleven." 

"  From  seven  to  eleven  !  That  will  be  a  long  walk,  my 
uncle." 

"  Well,  I  don't  think  we  shall  be  walking  all  the  time. 
One  doesn't  make  a  call  in  five  minutes." 

"True;  and  these  friends — who  are  they?" 

"  You  never  met  them ;  their  names  are  unknown  to 
you." 

"  You  mean  they  are  political  friends  ?" 

'"And  what  then?  You  are  too  curious,  my  dear  An- 
gelique. Vbung  ladies  cannot  expect  to  know  everything. 
.   .   .    But  we  must  go,  so  good-bye  for  the  present." 


KNIGHTS   OF   THE   DAGGER  1 59 

"  Better  bring  your  arms,"  he  whispered  to  me,  when  we 
were  out  of  the  room.  "  Paris  is  quiet,  but  to  be  defence- 
less invites  aggression.     I  will  wait  for  you  at  the  gate." 

I  ran  for  my  pistols  and  dagger,  and  joined  De  Lancy  at 
the  point  he  had  mentioned. 

"  Angelique  is  not  only  too  curious,  she  is  too  sharp,"  he 
observed,  as  we  turned  into  the  Rue  du  Bac.  "She  has  evi- 
dently a  shrewd  suspicion  as  to  the  object  of  this  walk  of 
ours." 

"  Why  not  tell  her,  then  ?     You  say  she  is  discreet." 

"  Because  I  am  not  alone.  Others  are  concerned  in  this 
affair,  and  the  secret  is  not  mine.  And  even  though  it  were, 
it  would  not  be  right  to  confide  it  to  Angelique.  Let  her 
rest  in  ignorance,  and  then  if  there  should  be  a  fiasco  and  a 
betrayal,  which  Heaven  forefend,  and  she  is  questioned,  she 
can  truthfully  say  she  knows  nothing.  So  don't  you  let  her 
worm  aught  out  of  you  when  you  return.  .  .  .  Were  you 
growing  impatient  ?" 

"  A  little ;  also  anxious.  It  is  ten  days  since  we  met  in 
the  Place  Louis  XV.,  and  delays  are  dangerous." 

"  You  are  right ;  so  is  undue  haste.  And  it  were  folly  to 
make  the  attempt  before  our  plans  are  fully  matured,  and  in 
enterprises  of  this  sort  the  slowest  marchers  mark  the  time ; 
but  now  everything  is  in  order,  and  to-night  the  final  dis- 
positions will  be  made." 

"  The  friends  to  whom  you  are  going  to  introduce  me  are 
conspirators,  then  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  think  it  is  well  for  you  to  make  their  acquaint- 
ance, and  one  of  them  will  be  your  companion." 

"  My  companion  ?" 

"  On  your  journey  to  Rouen  and  Dieppe.  It  is  always 
well  to  have  a  companion,  and  the  highways  are  not  safe 
for  a  solitary  horseman.1' 

After  a  walk  of  some  forty  minutes,  in  the  course  of  which 


160  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

we  neither  encountered  a  patrol  nor  passed  a  police  post, 
we  reached  a  street  which  I  did  not  recognize — a  street  of 
gloomy  houses,  half  hidden  among  trees  and  begirt  with 
high  walls.  Here  we  paused,  and  after  listening  for  a  min- 
ute and  looking  carefully  all  round,  the  vicomte  knocked 
thrice  at  the  side  door  opening  into  one  of  the  gardens, 
and  then  gave  a  low  whistle. 

••  Who  goes  there  ?"  demanded  a  voice  from  inside. 

'•  Friends  from  afar." 

"  How  many  ?" 

"  A  knight  and  a  new-comer.     Two  out  of  thirteen." 

"  Be  pleased  to  enter." 

The  door  opened,  and  we  went  in. 

"Good-evening,  gentlemen,"  said  the  janitor. 

"  Good-evening,"  answered  De  Lancy.  "  So  you  are  the 
guardian  of  the  door  to-night,  Deville.  Any  of  the  others 
arrived  ?" 

"  You  and  your  friend  make  twelve. "' 

"  So  there  is  only  one  late.     That  is  well.     Let  us 
on." 

The  vicomte  put  his  arm  within  mine,  and  led  me  tow- 
ards the  house  which,  as  I  presumed,  was  our  goal. 

v>  Why  did  you  describe  yourself  as  a  knight  and  me  as  a 
new-comer  ?"  I  asked. 

••  Uecause  I  am  a  sworn  member  of  the  society  and  you 
are  not.  Some  time  ago  a  number  of  gentlemen,  mostly 
members  of  the  old  Monarchical  Club,  entered  into  a  com- 
pact to  defend  the  king  from  his  enemies,  and  when  the 
palace  was  invaded  by  the  mob,  in  February,  1791,  several 
of  them  on  being  arrested  were  found  to  be  armed  with 
ers,  whereupon  the  people  dubbed  them  'Knights  of 
the   1  tion  bestowed  on  these  gentle- 

men in  derision  we  have  adopted  in  earnest,  as  signifying 
that  we  war  against  the  revolution  to  the  knife." 


KNIGHTS  OF  THE  DAGGER  l6l 

Before  the  door  we  found  another  guard,  armed  with 
pistols  and  a  pike.  To  him  De  Lancy  whispered  a  word 
which  I  failed  to  catch,  and  then  we  passed  inside  and 
entered  a  large  dining-room,  where  the  Knights  of  the  Dagger 
were  assembled.  It  was  more  like  a  drinking-party  than  a 
gathering  of  plotters.  Mostly  young  men,  they  laughed 
and  joked  and  rallied  each  other  and  helped  themselves  to 
wine  as  though  they  had  not  a  care.  There  was  nothing  to 
show  that  they  were  engaged  in  an  enterprise  which  might 
cost  every  one  of  them  his  life,  and  as  yet  not  a  mention  was 
made  either  of  the  cause  or  the  king. 

This  went  on  until  we  were  joined  by  a  new  arrival — doubt- 
less the  laggard  of  whom  the  guardian  of  the  gate  had  spoken 
to  De  Lancy. 

Then  somebody  bolted  the  door,  and  the  vicomte,  tak- 
ing the  head  of  the  table,  raised  his  hand,  and  the  clamor 
ceased. 

"  Gentlemen,  the  council  is  complete,"  said  he.  "Let  us 
to  business." 

"  Has  your  friend  taken  the  oath,  Monsieur  le  Presi- 
dent?" demanded  one  of  the  knights. 

"  No ;  but,  as  you  are  aware,  he  has  given  his  proofs,  and  I 
will  answer  for  his  loyalty  with  my  life.  Nevertheless,  if  it 
be  your  pleasure — " 

"  It  is  one  of  the  rules  that  nobody  shall  be  present  at  our 
proceedings  who  has  not  taken  the  oath,  and  in  my  opinion 
the  rule  ought  to  be  obeyed." 

The  murmurs  of  assent  that  followed  this  observation 
showed  that  it  was  also  the  opinion  of  the  meeting. 

"  May  I  say  you  will  take  the  oath  ?"  inquired  De  Lancy, 
turning  to  me. 

I  answered  that  I  should  like  to  hear  it  read  first,  and,  on 
the  president's  request,  the  knight  who  acted  as  secretary 
read  it.     I  forget  the  words  of  the  oath,  but,  generally,  it 


162  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

consisted  of  a  solemn  and  comprehensive  promise  of  secrecy, 
"on  your  honor  and  by  all  that  you  hold  most  sacred," 
touching  whatever  concerned  the  Knights  of  the  Dagger 
and  their  doings,  of  fealty  to  the  King  of  France,  and  an 
undertaking  to  execute  justice,  at  the  bidding  of  an  Exec- 
utive Committee,  on  whomsoever  should  disobey  its  orders 
or  betray  its  secrets. 

"  You  will  take  it,  of  course  !"  observed  De  Lancy. 

"  The  first  part  of  it,  with  pleasure,"  said  I.  "  But  not 
being  a  Frenchman,  I  cannot  promise  blind  obedience  to 
the  King  of  France.  Neither  can  I  undertake  to  'execute 
justice.'  That  may  mean  committing  murder,  and  I  am  a 
soldier,  not  an  assassin." 

Whereupon  angry  exclamations,  and  so  great  an  uproar 
that  De  Lancy  had  much  ado  to  restore  order.  I  proposed 
to  withdraw,  but  he  would  not  hear  of  it,  and  made  a  short 
yet  vigorous  speech  which  reconciled  the  meeting  to  my 
conditions,  and  I  took  the  oath — with  the  exceptions  I  have 
named. 

Then  followed  a  long  conversation,  from  which  I  gathered, 
among  other  things,  that  the  flight  of  the  royal  family  was 
to  take  place  duringthe  following  week,  when  several  of  the 
knights,  who  were  also  members  of  the  municipality  and  the 
National  Guard,  would  be  on  duty  at  the  Temple.  But  with 
this  I  had  nothing  to  do,  my  part  in  the  business  only  be- 
ginning when  the  fugitives  were  out  of  Paris,  as  I  have 
already  explained. 

In  the  meanwhile  I  was  to  make  an  excursion  into  Nor- 
mandy, accompanied  by  M.  Candolle,  one  of  the  knights 
and  a  very  fine  young  fellow,  to  whom  I  had  the  pleasure 
of  being  introduced.  At  Rouen  it  would  be  my  duty  to 
arrange  with  the  king's  friends  for  his  reception  and 
guarding.  At  Dieppe  I  was  to  see  the  officer  in  command  of 
the  detachment  of  the  Swiss  Guard,  which  had  been  sent 


KNIGHTS   OF   THE   DAGGER  1 63 

thither  at  the  beginning  of  August,  and  arrange  with  him, 
if  I  could,  to  meet  the  royal  party  on  the  Rouen  road,  and 
protect  their  embarkation  for  England.  This  done,  or  left 
undone,  as  the  case  might  be,  I  was  to  return  as  far  as 
Flins,  a  village  some  twenty-three  miles  from  Paris,  where  I 
should  be  met  with  the  latest  news  and  my  final  instructions. 

Two  passports  had  been  obtained,  one  in  the  name  of 
"Lebrun"for  me,  the  other  in  the  name  of  "Larrey"  for  Can- 
dolle.  In  these  documents  we  were  described  as  commer- 
cial travellers.  My  "  line"  was  woollens ;  Candolle's  jewelry. 
And  in  order  to  keep  up  the  characters  assigned  to  us  we 
were  to  carry  in  our  saddle-bags  a  few  samples  of  our  re- 
spective specialties. 

Our  credentials  consisted  of  certain  passwords  and  letters, 
the  latter  so  worded  that  they  could  be  understood  only  by 
the  initiated. 

It  was  further  arranged  that  Candolle  and  I  were  to 
meet  on  the  following  evening,  equipped  for  the  journey, 
at  a  house  in  the  Rue  de  Lille,  where  we  should  find  two 
good  horses  waiting  for  us,  also  arms  and  ammunition. 

As  our  papers  were  quite  in  order,  it  was  not  supposed 
that  we  would  have  any  difficulty  in  passing  the  barrier. 

This  concluded  the  business  of  the  evening,  so  far  as  I 
was  concerned,  and  as  it  was  past  ten  and  the  vicomte  had 
promised  that  I  should  be  in  my  quarters  before  eleven,  I 
took  my  leave.  De  Lancy  walked  with  me  to  the  garden 
gate. 

"  You  know  your  way  home,"  he  said  ;  "  past  the  king's 
garden,  and  then  as  we  came.  It  is  rather  roundabout,  yet 
safe  withal,  which  the  direct  road  is  not." 

"  I  shall  return  the  way  we  came,  of  course.  I  can  find  it 
easily.     I  know  Paris,  and  I  have  studied  your  map." 

"  Good !  And  now  I  have  a  last  counsel  to  give  you. 
We  are  not  likely  to  meet  again  before  the  affair  comes  off. 


164  FOR   HONOR   AND    LIFE 

I  hope  we  shall  succeed,  and,  in  any  event,  I  trust  no  harm 
will  befall  you.  But  a  wise  general  always  reckons  with 
the  possibility  of  failure,  and  if  you  should  by  any  mis- 
chance fall  into  the  toils,  answer  no  questions.  Don't  ad- 
mit that  your  true  name  is  not  Lebrun,  don't  admit  that 
you  were  ever  in  the  regiment ;  in  short,  give  no  informa- 
tion whatever  about  anybody  or  anything.  Also,  be  careful 
what  you  say  to  my  niece  and  the  marchioness.  As  you 
wend  homeward  you  will  have  ample  time  to  invent  some 
excuse  for  your  abrupt  departure.  And  now,  my  dear  friend, 
good-night  and  a  safe  journey." 

And  then  we  parted,  and  I  set  my  face  towards  the  Rue 
du  Bac. 

Invent  some  excuse  for  my  abrupt  departure !  It  would 
have  been  much  more  to  the  purpose  if  De  Lancy  had  pro- 
vided me  with  an  excuse.  It  were  easy  to  satisfy  Mine,  de 
Malartie.  I  might  say  that  as  I  had  obtained  a  passport 
it  behooved  me  to  quit  Paris  at  once,  where,  as  she  knew,  I 
was  in  continual  danger.  But  this  story  would  not  satisfy 
Angelique,  who  was  already  suspicious,  and,  as  her  uncle 
had  said,  too  sharp  to  be  easily  deceived.  On  the  other 
hand,  I  could  not  tell  her  the  truth  without  breaking  the 
oath  which  was  fresh  on  my  lips,  while  if  I  refused  to  an- 
swer her  qttestions  we  should  probably  part  bad  friends, 
and  as  we  might  never  meet  again  (for  I  had  no  illusions 
as  to  the  desperate  character  of  the  adventure  in  which  I 
had  embarked)  this  was  not  a  pleasant  prospect. 

It  was  a  hard  problem  to  solve,  and  I  was  so  intent  on 
its  solution  that  I  did  not  give  sufficient  heed  to  my  course, 
with  the  result  that  I  presently  found  myself  opposite  a 
police-post,  in  front  of  which  a  gendarme,  armed  to  the 
teeth,  was  pacing.  He  had  also  his  eye  on  me,  for  I  no 
sooner  caught  sight  of  him  than  he  cried  out,  "  Who  goes 
there?     Halt!" 


KNIGHTS    OF    THE    DAGGER  165 

I  went  on  unconcernedly,  as  though  the  words  had  been 
addressed  to  somebody  else ;  on  which  he  called  out  to  his 
comrades  inside  : 

"  Here  is  a  fellow  passing  who  disregards  my  challenge." 

"  Attons  !  Let  us  lag  him,"  was  the  answer,  and  the  next 
moment  three  or  four  gendarmes  rushed  out  of  the  house, 
shouting  :  "  Who  goes  there  ?  Halt,  or  it  will  be  the  worse 
for  you." 

As  I  knew  that  it  would  be  a  vast  deal  worse  for  me  if  I 
did  halt,  and  fighting  a  whole  police-station  was  not  to  be 
thought  of,  I  tightened  my  belt,  drew  a  deep  breath,  and 
put  my  best  foot  foremost. 


CHAPTER    XXIII 
TILL    WE    MEET    AGAIN 

I  had  little  to  fear  from  the  gendarmes.  I  knew  that, 
barring  accidents,  I  could  shake  them  off  in  a  few  minutes. 
My  sole  danger,  as  I  thought,  was  meeting  a  patrol  or  com- 
ing to  another  police-post,  and  so  getting  between  two  fires. 
To  avoid  this  peril  I  tried  to  regain  the  route  from  which  I 
had  so  stupidly  wandered.  The  streets  were  almost  desert- 
ed, and  if  it  had  not  been  nearly  full  moon  I  should  have 
slipped  into  a  doorway  or  dark  entry,  and  so  given  my  pur- 
suers the  slip. 

But  the  light  that  enabled  them  to  see  me  enabled  me  to 
see  them,  and  I  presently  perceived,  to  my  great  satisfac- 
tion, that  they  were  losing  ground,  and  would  soon  be  lost 
to  sight  —  all  save  one,  who  kept  well  ahead  of  his  com- 
panions, and  was  evidently  a  fair  runner  and  in  good  wind. 
lie  went  resolutely,  too,  as  though  he  had  a  mind  to  run 
me  to  ground  or  be  in  at  the  death.  So  I  made  a  spurt, 
thinking  to  shake  him  off  as  I  had  shaken  off  the  others. 
But  he  also  made  a  spurt,  and  it  was  a  better  one  than  mine. 
The  in-door  life  of  the  last  six  weeks  had  impaired  my  wind, 
and  I  found,  to  my  dismay,  that  I  could  run  no  faster  and 
very  little  farther. 

The  gendarme  gained  on  me;  in  a  few  seconds  his  hand 
would  be  on  my  shoulder,  and  I  was  so  blown  that  in  a 
h-and-tumble  I  should  probably  come  off  second  best. 
<  »u  the  other  hand,  I  did  not  want  to  shoot  the  man — he  was 
only  doing  his  duty.  Moreover,  a  pistol-shot  would  rouse  the 
neighborhood  and  put  the  other  gendarmes  on  my  track. 


TILL   WE    MEET   AGAIN  1 67 

What  should  I  do  ? 

A  look  forward  answered  the  question.  The  street  we 
were  in  was  straight  and  gloomy,  narrowing  at  the  end  al- 
most to  a  point,  and  shutting  out  the  moonlight. 

For  this  narrow  point  I  made,  and  when  I  reached  it  put 
my  back  against  the  wall  and  my  hand  on  my  dagger. 

The  gendarme,  a  big  man,  followed  panting,  with  low- 
ered head,  like  a  charging  bull,  his  arms  hanging  loosely 
by  his  side.  When  he  caught  sight  of  me  he  stopped 
short. 

"  At  last  I  have  you  !     Surrender,  you  scoundrel,  or — " 

He  said  no  more,  for  even  as  he  spoke  I  dashed  the  hilt 
of  my  dagger  in  his  face  with  all  the  strength  I  could  mus- 
ter. With  a  hoarse  cry  he  staggered  backward,  then  fell  in 
a  heap  on  the  pavement ;  and  I  went  my  way. 

Half  an  hour  afterwards  I  knocked  at  Mme.  de  Malartie's 
gate. 

"  You  are  late,  monsieur,"  said  Rod,  as  he  let  me  in. 

"Only  a  little  past  eleven,  I  think.  The  ladies  are  gone 
to  bed,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  It  is  nearly  twelve.  The  ladies  retired  at  eleven.  Mad- 
emoiselle de  la  Tour's  maid  was  here  a  little  while  ago,  in- 
quiring whether  you  had  arrived.  Is  monsieur  aware  that 
his  right  hand  is  covered  with  blood  ?" 

"God  bless  me  !     So  it  is." 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  hurt  ?" 

"  Only  a  scratch ;  I  must  have  knocked  it  against  some- 
thing.    Good-night,  Monsieur  Rod." 

And  with  that  I  also  retired,  and,  after  washing  my  hand 
of  the  gendarme's  blood,  went  to  bed,  and  lay  awake  half  the 
night  thinking  over  the  events  of  the  evening,  and  trying  to 
invent  a  plausible  excuse  for  my  impending  departure.  Af- 
ter inventing  a  dozen,  each  less  likely  to  find  acceptance 
than  the  other,  I  decided  to  be  perfectly  straightforward, 


1 68  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

and  answer  whatever  questions  Ange'lique  asked  me,  save 
such  as  were  barred  by  the  tenor  of  my  oath. 

I  did  not  see  the  ladies  until  we  met  at  second  breakfast. 
Mile,  de  la  Tour  looked  pensive  and  anxious,  yet  alert  and 
collected  withal.  Madame  la  Marquise  was  curious  and 
querulous,  from  which  I  concluded  that  Ange'lique  had 
made  her  the  confidante  of  her  misgivings. 

After  we  had  exchanged  the  usual  greetings,  I  opened 
the  ball  by  telling  the  marchioness,  point-blank,  that  having 
at  length  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  passport,  I  proposed  to 
quit  Paris. 

"  You  are  going  to  leave  us  !"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  start 
of  surprise  and  a  look  of  displeasure.  "  Why  ?  Are  you 
not  happy  with  us  ?" 

"  Thanks  to  your  kindness  and  hospitality,  Madame  la 
Marquise,  I  have  been  almost  too  happy  here,"  I  replied. 
"  But,  as  you  know,  I  am  under  a  ban,  and  were  I  arrested 
here  not  only  would  my  life  be  forfeit,  but  you  and  your 
household  gravely  compromised." 

'•  Why  should  you  be  arrested  ?  Do  you  suppose  any  of 
my  people  are  capable  of  denouncing  you  ?" 

"  Not  at  all ;  and,  if  it  depended  on  them —  But  I  may 
be  recognized  the  next  time  I  show  my  face  at  the  window 
or  pass  out  at  your  gate ;  and  it  behooves  me  to  get  away 
while  I  have  the  chance.  The  police  are  in  an  indulgent 
mood  just  now,  but  there  is  no  telling  how  long  it  will  last, 
and  the  passport  which  is  good  to-day  may  to-morrow  be 
rendered  useless  by  some  new  regulation." 

"Well,  I  cannot  ask  you  to  stay  here  at  the  risk  of  your 
life.  Yet  we  shall  be  sorry  to  lose  you,"  glancing  at  An- 
ge'lique.    "  You  are  going  to  England  ?" 

"  I  hope  so." 

••  You  only  hope  so,"  said  Angelique,  joining  for  the  first 
time  in  the  conversation. 


TILL   WE    MEET   AGAIN  1 69 

"  I  intend  to  go  to  England,  mademoiselle,  as  soon  as 
possible.  But  one  cannot  be  sure.  I  may  meet  with  un- 
expected difficulties." 

"Now  tell  me,  Monsieur  Astor,  has  not  my  Uncle  Claude's 
call  here  last  night,  and  what  happened  afterwards,  some- 
thing to  do  with  your  proposed  departure  for — England  ?" 

"What  happened  afterwards?" 

"Yes.  You  did  not  return  till  midnight,  and  one  of  your 
hands  was  covered  with  blood.  ...  I  beg  your  pardon ;  it 
is  no  business  of  mine.  I  have  no  right  to  question  you, 
only—" 

(This  in  a  low  voice,  obviously  inaudible  to  the  marchion- 
ess, whose  hearing  was  dulled  by  age.) 

"  Pray  continue,  mademoiselle.  I  fully  admit  your  right 
to  question  me,"  quoth  I.  "  Don't  I  owe  you  my  life  ?  And 
it  is  pleasant  to  think  that  you  take  an  interest  in  my  wel- 
fare.    You  were  saying — " 

Angelique  blushed,  lowered  her  eyes,  and  seemed  uncer- 
tain whether  to  yield  to  my  request  or  not.  But  instantly 
regaining  her  self-possession,  she  looked  me  frankly  in  the 
face,  and  observed,  quietly  : 

"  I  will  be  plain  with  you,  Monsieur  Astor ;  yet  I  cannot 
admit  that  because  I  was  so  fortunate  as  to  render  you  a 
service,  you  are  in  any  way  accountable  to  me  for  your  con- 
duct. But  I  know  my  uncle— know  him  and  love  him.  He 
is  a  brave  and  chivalrous  gentleman,  also  an  ardent  loyal- 
ist and  a  fanatical  hater  of  the  revolution.  To  rescue  the 
king  he  would  stop  at  nothing,  neither  sparing  himself  nor 
anybody  else.  He  thinks  that  if  his  majesty  could  be  got 
out  of  the  country  the  revolution  would  collapse.  I  don't. 
However,  that  is  nothing ;  I  am  only  a  girl,  and  my  uncle  is 
quite  within  his  right.  But  you  are  not  a  Frenchman,  and 
considering  what  you  have  already  done  and  suffered,  and 
that,  as  you  say,  you  are  under  a  ban,  I  don't  think  you 


170  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

should  be  asked  to  take  part  in  a  second  plot  for  the  king's 
rescue — especially  when  success  is  almost  past  praying  for. 
There  is  a  plot,  is  there  not  ?" 

"That  is  a  question  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  answer,  made- 
moiselle. You  will  understand  me  when  I  say  that  it  con- 
cerns not  myself  alone." 

"  There  is  a  plot,  then,  and  you  are  engaged  in  it.  I 
thought  so;  and  this  supposed  journey  to  England  is  mere- 
ly a  pretext." 

••  1  beg  your  pardon,  mademoiselle,  I  do  really  propose 
to  go  to  England." 

••  You  propose  !  Well,  I  have  no  more  to  say,  only  I  am 
very  sorry.  Seeing  that  you  saved  my  uncle's  life,  I  don't 
think  he  ought  to  let  you  risk  yours  in  one  of  his  hopeless 
enterprises." 

"Don't  say  hopeless,  mademoiselle." 

••  Yes,  hopeless.  The  king  was  born  under  an  evil  star, 
lie  brings  misfortune  to  all  who  try  to  serve  him.  Besides, 
how  can  you  get  him  out  of  the  Temple,  guarded  as  he  is  ? 
And  if  you  do  get  him  out  he  will  commit  some  stupidity, 
as  he  did  at  Varennes,  and  be  retaken.  The  mere  attempt 
will  make  the  Jacobins  more  furious  than  ever,  and  Heaven 
only  knows  where  it  will  end." 

Angdlique  sighed  deeply,  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

'■  Well  ?"  said  the  marchioness,  looking  at  us. 

"  We  were  talking  about  my  journey,"  said  I.  "  Made- 
moiselle de  la  Tour  thinks  I  may  not  reach  the  end,  but  I 
am  more  hopeful  ;  and  the  risk  of  going  away  is  at  least 
no  greater  than  the  risk  of  remaining  in  Paris." 

"  You  know  best  about  that,  monsieur;  and  though  I  shall 
be  sorry  for  you  to  go,  it  would  be  a  pity  for  you  to  stay 
and  fall  into  the  toils.  But  you  will  return  ?  We  shall  meet 
n  ?" 

•'  I  hope  SO— when  these  troubles  are  over." 


TILL    WE    MEET  AGAIN  171 

"  And  they  will  be  over  soon.  The  great  powers  of  Eu- 
rope cannot  suffer  anarchy  to  prevail  in  France.  They  will 
overthrow  the  republic  and  restore  the  monarchy,  and  then 
we  shall  settle  accounts  with  these  wretches  who  imprison 
their  king  and  put  ladies  and  gentlemen  to  death  in  cold 
blood,"  said  the  old  lady,  fiercely,  her  eyes  flashing  in  antici- 
pation of  victory  and  revenge. 

Later  in  the  day  I  waited  on  the  ladies  to  take  my  leave. 
The  marchioness  gave  me  her  hand  to  kiss,  saying,  kindly, 
she  would  not  bid  me  farewell,  only  "  good-bye  till  we  meet 
again  "  (au  revoir),  adding  :  "You  may  be  back  sooner  than 
you  expect." 

"Perhaps,"  quoth  I ;  yet  my  heart  did  not  echo  the  wish 
which  the  words  implied.  If  I  returned  to  Paris  sooner 
than  I  expected  it  could  only  be  as  a  prisoner. 

Angelique  seemed  very  subdued  ;  her  face  was  pale  and 
her  eyes  avoided  mine,  but  her  hand  lingered  in  my  grasp. 

"  Good-bye  till  we  meet  again,"  said  I. 

"  An  revoir,  monsieur,"  she  murmured.  And  then  I  hur- 
ried away,  for  the  hour  of  my  departure  had  struck,  and  my 
heart  was  heavy  with  the  thought  that  we  might  never  meet 
again. 

I  found  Candolle  at  the  rendezvous  in  the  Rue  de  Lille. 
The  horses  were  ready,  and,  after  transferring  my  scanty 
kit  to  the  saddle-bags,  loading  and  priming  my  pistols,  and 
buckling  on  the  sword  which  my  companion  had  brought 
me,  we  set  out  on  our  journey. 

I  had  withdrawn  my  deposit  from  M.  Dufour  a  few  days 
previously,  and  sewn  the  greater  part  of  the  money  in  the 
lining  of  my  vest. 

As  we  crossed  the  Place  Louis  XV.  in  the  deepening 
twilight,  I  saw  that  the  king's  statue  had  been  removed, 
and  in  its  room  loomed  a  scaffold,  gaunt  and  hideous,  with 
two  skeleton-like  arms  painted  red  and  pointing  skyward. 


1--  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

"The  new  guillotine,"  observed  Candolle;  "and  they 
have  renamed  the  square  Place  de  la  Revolution." 

When  we  sighted  the  barrier  my  companion  made  the 
obvious  remark  that  once  through  we  should  be  all  right. 

'•  Is  there  any  doubt  about  our  getting  through  ?"  I  asked. 

"Well,  our  passports  are  in  order;  but  if  the  brigadier 
in  charge  is  a  pedant,  a  martinet,  or  a  fool,  he  may  make 
difficulties  and  turn  us  back  or  detain  us,  pending  inquiry." 

"  Which  would  probably  mean  making  the  acquaintance 
of  the  new  guillotine.  Anything  were  better  than  that.  I 
don't  intend  either  to  be  detained  or  turned  back.  If  the 
people  at  the  barrier  make  any  objection,  let  us  brush  them 
aside  and  ride  on.  Our  horses  are  fresh,  we  are  well 
armed,  and  night  is  nigh.  What  say  you,  Monsieur  Can- 
dolle ?" 

•■  Ves,  with  all  my  heart.  With  liberty  before,  and  that 
thing  behind  us,  there  can  be  no  two  opinions.  Better 
wait  till  those  market-carts  are  out  of  the  way,  though." 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
AT  THE  GOLDEN  PIG 

Candolle's  passport  passed  muster,  but  to  mine  the 
brigadier  demurred. 

"  Blue  eyes !"  said  he.  "  How  can  one  tell  the  color  of 
your  eyes  through  those  big  spectacles  ?  Six  feet  high  ! 
How  can  one  measure  the  height  of  a  man  on  horseback  ? 
I  should  like  to  have  a  closer  look  at  you,  Citizen  Com- 
mercial Traveller.  Be  good  enough  to  dismount  and  step 
into  the  bureau." 

This  proposal  did  not  suit  me,  and  I  was  going  to  bid 
the  fellow  get  out  of  my  way  or  I  would  ride  him  down, 
when  Candolle  whispered,  "Try  backsheesh" — a  hint  on 
which  I  promptly  acted. 

"  Nothing  would  please  me  better  than  to  step  into  the 
bureau,  Citizen  Brigadier,  if  I  were  not  pressed  for  time,"  I 
returned.  "  I  have  a  business  appointment  at  St.  Germain 
for  nine  o'clock,  which  it  were  as  much  as  my  place  is 
worth  to  miss.  Here  is  another  credential  which,  I  trust, 
will  satisfy  you  as  touching  my  eyes  and  inches." 

And  with  that  I  leaned  over  my  saddle-bow,  and  tipped 
him  a  hundred-franc  assignat,  worth  about  thirty. 

"  It  is  well,"  crumpling  up  the  assignat  in  his  hand  and 
returning  the  passport.  "  You  can  pass  on,  Citizen  Com- 
mercial Traveller,  but  I  advise  you  to  keep  a  sharp  look- 
out; there  are  robbers  on  the  Rouen  road." 

"Also  at  the  barrier  of  the  Champs-Elysees,"  thought  I. 

"  That  was  a  happy  thought  of  yours,  Monsieur  Can- 
dolle," I  remarked,  as  soon  as  we  were  under  way  again. 


174  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

"All  the  same,  I  should  have  liked  to  ride  over  that  rascal- 
ly black-mailer." 

"  So  should  I,  and  we  could  have  got  away.  But  the 
guard  would  have  fired,  and  one  of  their  bullets  might  have 
found  a  billet.  Anyhow,  there  would  have  been  a  great  to 
nd  inquiries  made  concerning  Auguste  Lebrun  and 
The'ophile  Larrey,  which  might  have  led  to  discoveries  and 
ruined  the  plot." 

This  observation  naturally  led  to  a  talk  touching  our  own 
part  in  the  plot,  and  the  details  of  our  itinerary.  Our  in- 
structions were  to  wait  at  St.  Germaine-en-Laye  and  sleep 
at  Flihs,  a  village  some  three-and-twenty  miles  from  Paris. 
On  the  following  day,  which  would  be  Tuesday,  we  were  to 
push  on  to  Rouen,  a  march  of  more  than  fifty  miles  ;  but 
as  our  horses  were  fit,  they  would  be  able  to  do  it  without 
distress.  Moreover,  they  would  have  two  days'  rest  at 
Rouen,  where  I  should  hire  another  horse,  or  post-chaise, 
to  take  me  to  Dieppe,  going  thither  one  day  and  returning 
the  next. 

This  would  bring  us  to  Thursday  night,  and  by  sunset  on 
ly  we  meant  to  be  back  at  Flins,  or,  rather,  at  La  Soli- 
tude, a  manor-house  hard  by  belonging  to  one  of  the  con- 
spirators, where  we  expected  to  find  a  dozen  or  more  of  the 
Knights  of  the  Dagger,  who  were  to  proceed  thither  mean- 
while in  twos  and  threes,  so  as  to  avoid  attracting  atten- 
tion. 

Now  the  chief,  indeed  the  sole,  danger  which  threatened 
the  royal  party  after  leaving  Paris  was  recapture,  either  by 
pursuing  gendarmes,  or  the  populace  or  authorities  of  any 
of  the  villages  through  which  they  might  pass. 

Hence  the  necessity  of  an  escort. 

<  Mice  beyond  the  barrier,  the  king  and  queen,  their  two 
children,  and  Mine.  Elizabeth,  the  king's  sister,  were  to  be 
transferred  from  the  market-cart,  their  first  conveyance,  to 


AT   THE   GOLDEN    PIG  1 75 

two  carriages,  and  driven  to  St.  Germaine-en-Laye,  where 
fifteen  knights  would  be  on  the  lookout  for  them,  and 
thenceforward  ride  with  them.  But  as  this  was  to  be  at 
dead  of  night,  the  fugitives  were  not  likely  to  be  recognized, 
and,  in  any  case,  the  fifteen  defenders  might  be  trusted  to 
clear  a  way  for  them. 

At  the  manor-house  of  La  Solitude  there  was  to  be  a 
short  halt  for  rest  and  refreshment.  The  escort,  reinforced 
by  our  party,  would  then  be  placed  under  my  command, 
and  as  all  the  regular  troops  were  at  the  front,  and  the 
local  authorities  en  route  would  be  unprepared  for  resist- 
ance, we  should  be  able  to  requisition  horses  for  the  journey 
to  Rouen,  which  we  hoped  to  accomplish  in  seven  or  eight 
hours. 

A  two-mile  covert  trot  brought  us  to  St.  Germaine, 
where  we  had  proposed  to  halt  for  an  hour ;  but  as  there 
were  several  gendarmes  hanging  about,  and  the  inn  where 
we  pulled  up  was  crowded  with  revellers,  we  rode  on  till  we 
came  to  the  Golden  Pig,  a  lonely  hostelry  at  the  edge  of 
the  forest.  Its  aspect  was  not  inviting,  but  our  wants  be- 
ing modest  —  a  bite  and  sup  for  ourselves,  and  a  feed  for 
our  horses — we  thought  it  might  serve,  so  led  them  into  the 
tumble-down  old  stable,  inhabited  at  the  moment  by  four 
other  horses  and  a  very  dirty  old  groom,  who  met  us  at  the 
door  with  a  lantern. 

When  we  had  seen  our  beasts  watered  and  fed  we  went 
into  the  hostelry — an  ancient,  low-roofed,  timbered  building, 
dilapidated  and  picturesque.  The  landlord,  a  beetle-browed, 
obsequious  ruffian,  whose  countenance  did  not  inspire  con- 
fidence, ushered  us  into  the  travellers'-room,  where  we 
found  four  men  playing  cards.  Being  booted  and  spurred, 
they  were  doubtless  the  owners  of  the  horses  we  had  seen 
in  the  stable. 

On  entering,  we  gave  them  the  usual   greeting,  which 


176  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

they  duly  returned,  and,  after  taking  a  look  at  us,  went  on 
with  their  card  playing.  While  we  were  waiting  for  the 
frugal  supper — a  pottage,  an  omelet,  and  a  bottle  of  wine — 
which  the  innkeeper  had  promised  to  serve  in  "some  min- 
."  I  observed  that  Candolle  was  closely  watching  the 
four  gamblers,  and  that,  though  they  seemed  to  be  intent 
on  their  play,  they  were  closely  watching  us. 

After  this  had  gone  on  for  a  while,  Candolle,  exclaiming 
something  about  dying  of  hunger,  abruptly  left  the  room,  as 
I  supposed,  to  look  after  the  supper. 

"  fs  it  ready  ?"  I  asked  when  he  returned. 

'•  Nearly.  It  will  be  served  in  a  few  minutes,"  he  said; 
and  then,  lowering  his  voice  to  a  whisper,  "I  have  been 
doing  what  we  should  have  done  at  the  outset  —  securing 
our  pistols.  You  heard  the  brigadier's  warning  about  rob- 
bers on  the  Rouen  road.  Well,  regard  those  fellows.  Have 
they  the  air  of  honest  travellers  ?" 

"They  don't  look  like  gentlemen,  if  that's  what  you  mean.'' 

"They  look  like  highwaymen,  in  my  opinion;  though, 
look  you,  they  may  be  police-agents  in  the  pay  of  the 
Foreign  Office." 

"  In  that  guise,  and  in  this  place  ?  What  can  they  want 
here  ?" 

"  To  rob  a  courier.  An  ambassador's  courier  is  as  sacred 
as  his  master — neither  gendarme  nor  soldier  dare  lay  hands 
on  him.  So  when  the  government  wants  to  overhaul  the 
British  ambassador's  despatches,  for  instance,  they  arrange 
to  have  his  courier  robbed  en  route  to  the  coast,  either  by 
'  nines  got  up  as  highwaymen,  or  robbers  with  whom 
have  an  understanding.  That  is  a  common  dip- 
lomatic dodge  nowadays.  But  as  couriers  don't  often 
travel  to  England  via  Dieppe,  these  fellows  are  probably 
•  brigands,  wherefore  I  thought  it  just  as  well  to 

secure  our  pistols." 


AT   THE   GOLDEN    PIG  1 77 

"  You  surely  don't  think  they  would  fall  on  us  here  ?" 

"  That  would  not  suit  the  landlord's  purpose.  But  if,  as 
I  suspect,  he  is  an  accomplice,  he  or  his  hostler  might  tam- 
per with  our  arms.  One  has  heard  of  such  things  being 
done." 

"  You  are  quite  right,  and  I  cannot  sufficiently  applaud 
De  Lancy's  foresight  in  providing  me  with  a  comrade  so 
much  more  familiar  with  the  ways  of  the  road  than  myself. 
Here  comes  the  supper." 

When  the  viands  came  in  the  card-players  went  out,  each 
man  as  he  passed  our  table  saluting,  and  politely  wishing 
us  good-night. 

A  few  minutes  afterwards  we  heard  their  horses  clatter 
out  of  the  inn  yard. 

"  From  the  way  in  which  that  tall,  red-haired  chap  is  set 
up  I  fancy  he  has  served,"  said  I. 

"  He  is  probably  a  deserter ;  there  are  lots  of  them  about 
— possibly  a  gendarme  in  disguise." 

When  we  had  finished  our  supper  and  paid  the  score  we 
went  round  to  the  stable  for  our  horses. 

To  my  consternation  my  horse  came  out  dead  lame. 

"  What  can  be  the  matter  ?"  I  exclaimed.  "  He  was  quite 
sound  on  the  road." 

"Lame  horses  always  go  worse  after  a  rest,"  said  the 
hostler,  who  was  standing  by  with  a  lantern. 

Candolle  ran  his  hand  down  my  horse's  near  fore-leg, 
dwelling  for  an  instant  on  the  fetlock-joint.  Then,  spring- 
ing up,  he  seized  the  hostler  by  the  throat  and  pinned  him 
against  the  wall. 

"  You  scoundrel !"  he  hissed.  "  I  know  what  you  have 
done,  and  I  have  a  great  mind  to  run  you  through.  Bring 
your  lantern  here." 

The  fellow,  who  trembled  like  a  leaf,  held  the  light,  while 
Candolle,  with  his  penknife,  severed  a  piece  of  packthread 
12 


IjS  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

which  had  been  tied  so  tightly  round  the  fetlock-joint  that 
it  cut  into  the  flesh. 

••  Xow  the  horse  is  sound  again.  If  this  villain  were  not 
an  old  man  I  would  kick  him  into  fits.  A/Ions,  Monsieur 
Lebrun  !    Let  us  mount  and  be  gone." 

"You  were  right,  Monsieur  Candolle,"  I  began,  when  we 
were  out  of  the  inn  yard. 

"  Drop  the  Candolle,  if  you  please,  my  dear  sir.  Do  let 
us  be  careful.     I  nearly  called  you  Astor  just  now." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Monsieur  Larrey.  I  was  going  to 
observe  that  this  incident  confirms  your  suspicions.  The 
card-players  are  certainly  highwaymen,  and  the  hostler  is 
in  league  with  them,  probably  the  landlord  also.  Are  they 
lying  in  wait  for  us?     That  is  the  question." 

"  Here  are  your  pistols.  They  are  all  right.  I  have  primed 
them  afresh.  They  probably  are  lying  in  wait  for  us,  though 
I  don't  think  the  villains  will  attack  us  openly  unless  the 
odds  are  vastly  in  their  favor.  Plunder,  not  fighting,  is  their 
game." 

"  You  mean  that  they  may  be  in  ambush  and  fire  at  us 
from  behind  the  trees.  If  so,  we  had  better  hurry  on  ;  the 
faster  we  go  the  less  likely  we  are  to  be  hit." 

"  And  the  more  likely  to  be  entangled  in  the  cords  which 
they  may  stretch  across  the  road." 

"The  devil  they  may!  You  seem  to  know  the  ways  of 
these  gentry,  Monsieur  Larrey." 

"  So  I  ought,  seeing  that  I  served  four  years  in  the  gen- 
darmerie." 

"  I  am  delighted  to  hear  it.    You  are  the  right  man  in  the 

I  place.     I  gladly  place  myself  under  your  orders,  and 

if  we  can  have  a  brush  with  the  rogues  and  give  them  a  les- 

son  I  shall  be  all  the  better  pleased,  always  provided  that 

our  journey  is  not  delayed." 

"  I  will   try  to  meet  your  wishes,  and   I  have  bethought 


AT    THE    GOLDEN    PIG  1 79 

me  of  a  plan.  As  for  the  brush,  we  shall  see.  Now  the 
four  men  are  ahead.  I  heard  them  leave  the  inn  yard,  and 
know  by  the  sound  of  their  horses'  hoofs  that  they  turned 
in  this  direction.  They  may  have  joined  forces  with  an- 
other body,  and  consider  themselves  strong  enough  to  bar 
our  way  and  bid  us  stand  and  deliver.  But  that  makes  no 
difference  to  my  plan,  which  is  this  :  to  ride  on  at  full  speed, 
keeping  a  sharp  lookout  for  the  possible  cord,  pausing  now 
and  then  to  listen  until  we  hear  the  tramp  of  their  horses, 
or,  it  may  be,  catch  a  glimpse  of  them  in  the  distance.  It 
is  a  clear  night." 

"  And  then  charge  them  ?" 

"  No;  turn  back." 

"  What  ?" 

"  I  said  turn  back,  making  as  much  noise  as  we  can.  If 
they  are  what  we  take  them  for,  they  will  think  we  are  afraid 
and  ride  after  us,  and  we,  when  we  get  to  a  suitable  place, 
will  pull  up  and  back  our  horses  among  the  trees." 

"  I  see  ;  and  as  the  brigands  pass,  charge  them  on  the 
flank." 

"  If  there  are  not  more  than  four." 

"  Say  six.  They  will  be  taken  by  surprise,  remember, 
and  you  and  I  are  good  for  half  a  dozen  highwaymen  any 
day.  We  shall  have  two  of  them  down  before  they  can 
draw,  and  the  others  will  bolt." 

"  Very  well.  But  if  there  are  more  than  six  we  had  bet- 
ter let  them  alone  and  go  on  our  way.  Our  mission  is  im- 
portant, and  we  have  no  right  to  run  unnecessary  risks." 

"  True.  It  is  a  thing  agreed,  then.  We  fight  six  and 
run  from  seven.     And  now,  shall  we  trot  ?" 

"  No ;  rather  let  us  go  at  a  hunting  gallop"  (canter).  "  The 
more  noise  we  make  and  the  sooner  we  sight  them  the 
better." 


CHAPTER   XXV 
DOGGED 

It  was  a  clear  night — one  of  those  still  autumnal  nights 
when  unnumbered  millions  of  stars,  shining  in  a  purple  sky, 
give  nearly  as  much  light  as  the  moon ;  so  that  where  the 
road  was  straight  we  could  discern,  vaguely,  objects  two  or 
three  score  yards  ahead  of  us.  Owing  to  the  absence  of 
distracting  noises  and  the  lightness  of  the  wind,  which  blew 
caressingly  in  our  faces,  it  was  also  a  good  night  for  hear- 
ing. As  we  pulled  up  after  our  preliminary  canter  we  could 
hear  the  melancholy  howling  of  a  hound  which  must  have 
been  at  least  a  mile  away,  and  the  patter  of  leaves  as  they 
fluttered  softly  to  the  ground. 

But  nothing  more. 

"  Forward  again  !"  said  Candolle  ;  and  on  we  went. 

Then  a  second  pull  up. 

"  I  lark  !     Wasn't  that  the  neigh  of  a  horse  ?" 

"  Yes.  They  must  be  going  at  a  walk,  or  we  should  hear 
the  tramp  of  their  horses.     Another  x<^<)/'  de  chassef" 

We  rode,  bending  forward  in  our  saddles,  listening  in- 
tently and  straining  our  eyes  for  a  first  sight  of  the  sup- 
posed brigands. 

"  I  lilt  ["exclaimed  Candolle.  "Don't  you  see  something?" 

"  Yes,  but  I  cannot  make  out  what.     It  moves,  though." 

•■  I  rom  us  or  towards  us  ?" 

'•  From—     No  ;  towards  us." 

"  So  I  think.  Anyhow,  they  must  have  hoard  us.  and 
if  they  don't  see  us —  They  do  see  us,  and  are  turning 
hitherward.     Right-about  face  and  full  gallop  I" 


DOGGED  l8l 

A  spin  of  ten  minutes  brought  us  to  a  bend  where  the 
road  was  fringed  with  trees  and  bushes.  Here  we  drew 
rein,  and  took  post  among  the  timber  in  such  fashion  that 
though  our  view  backward  was  unimpeded,  we  were  well 
hidden. 

Soon  we  heard  the  galloping  of  our  pursuers'  horses,  and 
presently  we  perceived  them,  at  first  as  a  dark,  moving  mass, 
soon  more  distinctly.  At  their  head  rode  one  whom,  from 
his  build  and  height,  I  took  to  be  the  supposed  deserter. 

"  One,  two,  three,  four,  five,"  muttered  my  colleague.  "  No 
more.  Good.  The  odd  ruffian  has  been  on  the  lookout 
down  the  road.  They  are  riding  like  the  devil.  So  much 
the  better." 

"  Steel  or  fire  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Fire  first,  then  at  'em  with  the  steel." 

We  let  the  red-haired  man  go  by  (which,  in  my  opinion, 
was  a  mistake),  and  so  soon  as  the  main  body  came  over 
against  us,  emptied  our  pistols  into  the  thick  of  them;  then 
drew  and  charged.  Two  of  the  rascals  went  down  like  nine- 
pins, one  was  unhorsed,  the  third  galloped  away,  and  the 
riderless  steed  turned  tail  and  ran  back  the  way  he  had 
come. 

"  Enough  !"  said  Candolle,  sheathing  his  sword.  "  Those 
fellows  will  trouble  us  no  more.     Let  us  go." 

We  went  on  steadily,  now  and  then  trotting,  yet  mostly  at 
a  walk,  and  reached  the  neighborhood  of  Flins  shortly  be- 
fore midnight ;  but  not  liking  to  disturb  the  inmates  of  the 
manor-house  at  so  late  an  hour,  we  put  up  at  the  village  inn, 
where  the  accommodations  were  quite  as  good  as  we  had 
expected,  and  the  fare  vastly  better  than  that  of  the  Golden 
Pig.  The  innkeeper  made  curious  inquiries  as  to  the  con- 
dition of  the  road,  and  seemed  surprised  that  nobody  had 
meddled  with  us  ;  for  we  deemed  it  unadvisable  to  tell  him 
of  our  encounter  with  the  highwaymen.    It  would  not  have 


1 82  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

suited  our  purpose  to  be  interviewed  and  cross-questioned 
by  tiie  local  brigadier  of  gendarmerie,  and  perhaps  invited 
to  pay  a  visit  to  the  local  justice  of  the  peace. 

After  sleeping  six  hours  we  started  for  Rouen,  travelled 
by  easy  stages,  baiting  or  gruelling  the  horses  at  the  end  of 
every  ten  miles,  and  reached  our  destination  at  nine  o'clock, 
meridian,  feeling  very  fit,  and  our  horses  looking  none 
the  worse  for  their  journey.  "Fair  and  easy  go  long  in  a 
day,"  as  old  Wiggin  used  to  say  when  I  set  out  for  Man- 
chester. Lancashire  and  Wiggin  and  my  father  and  the 
print-shop  seemed  a  long  way  off  now. 

The  first  thing  I  did  after  supper  was  to  write  home.  I 
thought  I  might  have  an  opportunity  of  despatching  a  letter 
from  Dieppe.  As  my  missive  might  fall  into  unfriendly 
hands,  I  could  say  no  more  than  that  I  was  safe  and  sound, 
and  so  soon  as  I  was  quit  of  a  business  which  it  concerned 
my  honor  to  see  through  I  should  make  for  England. 

Leaving  Candolle  to  arrange  matters  at  Rouen,  I  set  out 
early  next  morning  in  a  two-horse  post-chaise  for  Dieppe, 
whither  I  arrived  shortly  before  noon,  and  presented  my 
passport  to  the  guard  of  the  city  gate,  hoping  that,  as  at 
Rouen,  I  should  be  admitted  without  further  trouble.  But 
the  brigadier  said  I  should  have  to  accompany  one  of  his 
men  to  the  police-office  in  order  that  the  document  might 
be  visid.  To  my  dismay,  for  I  had  once  been  stationed  a 
month  at  Dieppe,  it  was  on  the  cards  that  I  might  be  rec- 
ognized.  And  the  inspector,  or  commissionnaire,  or  what- 
ever might  be  his  rank,  into  whose  room  I  was  shown,  stared 
at  me  so  hard,  and  read  and  reread  the  passport  so  dili- 
d  asked  me  so  many  questions,  as  to  render  it 
ill  that  he  either  suspected  something  or  wanted  some- 
thing. Putting  the  more  favorable  construction  on  his  pro- 
ceedings, I  let  a  hundred-franc  assign  at  flutter  unobtrusively 
on  his  table.      He  seemed   not  to  see  it,  yet  became  won- 


DOGGED  183 

drously  affable  withal,  endorsed  and  returned  my  passport, 
saying  it  was  quite  in  order,  and  bowed  me  politely  into  the 
street. 

So  far  good.  I  was  free  of  Dieppe,  and  made  my  way 
with  an  easier  mind  to  the  barracks,  where  I  found  Von 
Affry,  Rusca,  Karrer,  and  other  old  comrades.  The  dear 
fellows  put  their  arms  round  me  and  welcomed  me  as  one 
from  the  grave,  for  they  thought  I  was  among  the  dead. 
Rusca  was  affected  to  tears,  and  endless  were  the  questions 
they  asked  me  about  the  events  of  the  fatal  10th  and  what 
had  befallen  me  since. 

It  was  a  meeting  darkened  by  sorrowful  memories ;  yet  I 
felt  an  inexpressible  pleasure  in  meeting  again,  probably 
for  the  last  time,  these  true  friends  and  brave  brother-sol- 
diers, and  they,  though  grieving  sorely  for  fallen  comrades, 
were  consoled  by  the  glory  which  their  heroic  deaths  had 
won  for  themselves,  the  regiment,  and  their  native  land. 

"I  think  there  is  none  here  who  would  not  say,  'Let  my 
last  end  be  like  theirs,'  "  said  Karl  von  Affry,  solemnly ;  and 
all  murmured  assent. 

When  I  told  them  of  my  errand  my  friends  looked  grave. 

"  Do  you  know,  boy,  that  you  are  asking  us  for  our  lives  ?" 
exclaimed  Von  Affry.  "  If  we  connived  at  the  escape  of 
the  king  we  should  be  massacred  to  the  last  man.  Not  that 
this  consideration  would  hinder  us  from  doing  our  duty; 
but  what  you  want  us  to  do  is  not  our  duty.  The  monarch 
whom  we  served  is  deposed  and  a  captive.  Nor  is  that  all. 
The  regiment  has  been  disbanded  by  the  de facto  government 
of  France,  the  cantons  have  ordered  us  to  return  to  our 
homes,  and  so  soon  as  we  get  our  back  pay  and  safe-con- 
ducts— which  may  be  to-morrow — we  shall  quit  the  country." 

This  was  unanswerable.  I  had  nothing  to  urge  against 
it,  and  could  only  ask  Von  Affry  whether  he  thought,  if  the 
king  came  to  Havre,  he  could  find  a  craft  to  carry  him  to 


^4  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

England,  and  what  force  would  be  needed  to  protect  his  em- 
barkation. 

"  Finding  a  craft  is  a  mere  matter  of  money.  At  the  mo- 
ment there  is  no  military  force  here,  but  Louis  is  not  popu- 
lar at  Dieppe,  and  you  would  need  at  least  a  hundred  reso- 
lute well-armed  men  to  insure  his  safety." 

Thus  Von  AlTry,  a  man  of  ripe  experience  and  many  years 
my  senior,  answered  my  query,  and  next  inquired  why,  see- 
ing that  the  regiment  had  ceased  to  exist,  I  did  not  return 
straightway  to  England,  instead  of  mixing  myself  up  in  mat- 
ters which  concerned  Frenchmen  only,  adding  that  I  should 
never  have  such  a  chance,  and  that  he  could  introduce  me 
to  a  smuggler  who,  for  a  thousand  francs  in  gold,  would 
undertake  to  land  me  at  Newhaven. 

On  this  I  told  him  of  the  condition  on  which  I  had  ob- 
tained my  passport,  and  of  my  great  desire  to  lend  a  hand 
in  the  rescue  of  the  queen. 

Von  Affry  said  that  he,  too,  would  risk  his  life  to  rescue 
Marie  Antoinette.  "But  has  it  occurred  to  you,"  he  went 
on,  "  that  if  this  attempt  fails  her  captivity  will  be  made  all 
the  harder,  and  that  the  Jacobins  will  have  a  plausible  pre- 
text for  further  measures  of  repression  ?  And  the  chances 
are  about  a  thousand  to  one  that  it  will  fail.  You  must  see 
that  yourself.  It  is  conceivable  that  one  of  the  prisoners 
might  be  smuggled  out  of  the  Temple  —  but  five,  and  two 
of  them  children  !  As  for  De  Lancy,  I  have  no  doubt  he  is 
a  man  of  honor;  any  more  than  that  he  is  a  fanatic.  And 
irs,  whether  they  call  themselves  royalists  or  religionists, 
stick  at  nothing,  and  to  serve  cause  or  creed  will  sacrifice 
their  friends  with  as  little  scruple  as  they  would  sacrifice 
themselves.  As  for  this  passport,  for  which  you  haw  to 
pay  so  high  a  price,  don't  you  think  that  if  Jacques  Le- 
brun  were  to  become  'suspect'  it  would  be  a  danger  rather 
than  a  safeguard?     And  it  will  be  very  strange  if  among 


DOGGED  185 

all  these  conspirators  there  is  not  at  least  one  babbler  or 
traitor." 

All  this  was  so  obvious  that  I  wondered  that  it  had  not  oc- 
curred to  me.  Yet  as  touching  De  Lancy,  I  called  Von  Af- 
fry's  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  vicomte  had  twice  found 
me  a  hiding-place  when  I  was  in  imminent  danger,  and 
that  though  he  might  have  acted  disingenuously  in  the  mat- 
ter of  the  passport,  I  could  not  honorably  withdraw  from 
the  engagement  I  had  made  with  him.  On  the  other  hand, 
if  the  fugitives  did  not  appear  at  Flins  at  the  time  appointed 
for  their  arrival  I  should  feel  myself  at  liberty  to  abandon 
the  enterprise  and  leave  the  country. 

"  You  need  not  put  it  in  that  way,"  said  Von  Affry,  dryly. 
"  The  enterprise  will  have  abandoned  you.  You  are  quite 
right,  though,  to  prefer  honor  to  safety.  Having  given 
your  word,  you  must  keep  it;  and  as  we  may  not  be  here 
when  you  return,  I  shall  introduce  you  to  a  trustworthy 
man,  one  Blondin,  smack- owner  and  smuggler,  who  for  a 
fair  consideration  will  run  you  across  the  Channel." 

I  accepted  the  offer  and  saw  the  man,  and  on  the  mor- 
row bade  my  friends  a  sorrowful  farewell  and  posted  back 
to  Rouen,  disconsolate  and  unhappy,  for  the  thought  sug- 
gested by  Von  Affry  that  the  detection  of  the  conspiracy 
might  make  it  worse  for  the  queen,  and  perchance  lead  to 
a  renewed  persecution  of  the  royalists,  weighed  heavily  on 
my  mind. 

Candolle  was  greatly  disappointed  with  the  result  of  my 
mission.  So  far  as  promises  and  predictions  went  he  had 
been  more  fortunate.  The  royalists  whom  he  had  seen 
were  of  opinion  that  the  king  would  be  well  received  at 
Rouen,  and  undertook  that  a  contingent  of  them  should 
join  his  escort  and  go  with  him  to  Dieppe,  albeit  there  was 
a  difficulty  about  arms  which  suggested  grave  doubts  as  to 
its  fighting  efficiency. 


lS6  FOR    HONOR  AND    LIFE 

This  was  no  more  than  De  Lancy  knew  already.  The 
main  object  of  our  expedition  was  to  secure  the  co-opera- 
tion of  the  remnant  of  the  regiment  at  Dieppe  (for  which 
purpose,  now  that  my  eyes  were  opened,  I  saw  that  the  vi- 
comte  had  inveigled  me  into  his  plot).  Failing  therein,  we 
had  failed  in  all.  But  we  could  do  no  more,  and  started 
early  next  morning  (Friday)  on  our  return  journey.  The 
horses  being  fresh,  we  made  good  progress,  and  nothing 
worth  mentioning  happened  until  between  two  and  three 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  when  we  were  some  fifteen  miles 
from  our  destination.  At  this  point  we  began  to  think  that 
we  were  being  shadowed.  We  never  looked  backward 
where  the  road  was  straight  without  seeing  a  solitary  horse- 
man, who  always  adapted  his  speed  to  ours:  if  we  wont 
slow,  he  went  slow;  if  we  went  fast,  so  did  he;  yet  he  never 
came  near  enough  to  allow  us  to  distinguish  his  features. 

This  was  disquieting,  and  might  mean  danger;  so  in  order 
to  shake  the  fellow  off  we  stopped  at  a  road-side  inn,  put 
up  our  horses,  and  remained  there  until  after  dark.  After 
this  we  saw  the  solitary  horseman  no  more,  but  every  now 
and  then  we  heard  the  sound  of  hoofs  in  our  rear  which 
warned  us  that  he  was  still  on  our  track. 

The  position  of  the  manor-house  of  La  Solitude  had 
been  so  minutely  described  to  us  that  we  were  able  to  find 
it  without  asking  questions.  It  lay  half  a  league  from  the 
main  road,  and  to  get  there  we  were  to  take  the  first  lane 
to  the  right  beyond  Flins;  and  unless  we  wanted  our  fol- 
to  dog  us  to  the  door,  it  was  absolutely  necessary  to 
throw  him  out;  to  which  end  I  proposed  that  we  should 
tin  11  into  the  fields,  which  were  divided  from  the  road  by  a 
narrow  ditch.  My  companion  assenting,  we  put  our  horses 
at  it,  and,  though  not  exactly  steeple-chasers,  they  got  over 
ne  with  a  stride,  Candolle's  with  a  scramble.  Then 
we   sent   them   on    at    a  hand  -  gallop,  trusting   to   their  in- 


DOGGED  187 

stinct  and  superior  eyesight  to  keep  us  out  of  difficulties. 
Our  confidence  was  not  misplaced.  The  sagacious  creat- 
ures pulled  up  short  at  the  brink  of  an  unjumpable  chasm, 
whereupon  we  took  once  more  to  the  road,  and  presently 
reached  the  lane  leading  to  La  Solitude. 

So  far  as  we  could  tell,  the  stratagem  had  succeeded ; 
since,  though  we  listened  intently,  we  heard  no  more  pursu- 
ing footsteps.  Candolle  thought  the  fellow  was  a  police 
spy,  and  had  followed  me  from  Dieppe.  I  thought  the 
same ;  also  that  he  was  none  other  than  our  friend  with  the 
red  hair,  and  that  he  and  his  pals  had  been  more  or  less  on 
our  track  ever  since  we  left  St.  Germain-en-Laye. 

To  this  Candolle  demurred  ;  but  he  could  not  deny  that  it 
was  an  ominous  incident,  and  might  mean  danger — possibly 
disaster. 


CHAPTER    XXVI 
BETRAYED 

The  mansion-house  of  La  Solitude  was  an  ancient  ivy- 
clad  mansion  of  many  rooms,  with  an  inner  court,  large 
gardens,  and  extensive  stabling.  To  the  rear  was  a  farm- 
stead surrounded  by  high  walls,  and  the  remains  of  a  moat 
and  other  indications  showed  that  once  upon  a  time  La 
Solitude  had  been  a  strong  place.  It  was  probably  still 
strong  enough  to  withstand  any  engines  of  war  less  formi- 
dable than  battering-rams  and  cannon. 

The  owner  and  occupier  of  the  place  was  a  ci-devant 
noble,  one  Count  Agenor  de  Veridet,  now  plain  Monsieur 
or  Citizen  Veridet,  yet  still  addressed  in  the  old  style  by 
his  household  and  his  friends. 

It  need  hardly  be  said  that  he  was  an  ardent  royalist; 
other  would  have  risked  life  and  property  by  receiv- 
ing, or  agreeing  to  receive,  the  fallen  monarch  in  his  house, 
and  conniving  at  his  escape;  for  this  constituted  treason 
to  the  nation,  and  its  penalty  was  confiscation  and  death. 

The  count,  a  stately  middle-aged  gentleman,  received  us 
with  exquisite  courtesy,  and  introduced  us  to  his  wife  and 
daughters,  two  charming  young  ladies  whom  I  was  rather 
surprised  to  find  there,  as  in  the  event  of  things  going 
wrong  they  would  probably  be  involved  in  their  father's 
ruin. 

Several  of  our  party  h  id  already  arrived — gallant  young 
vs,  full  of  life  and  energy,  and  sanguine  as  to  the  re- 
sult of  our  enterprise.  They  reported  that  everything  was 
on  well  at  Paris:  the  " evasion,"  as  they  called  it, 


BETRAYED  I 89 

would  take  place  on  the  following  night,  and  there  was  no 
reason  to  suppose  that  the  police  had  the  least  inkling  of 
what  was  going  on. 

We  should  know  more  in  the  morning  when  the  others 
came,  and  De  Lancy,  who  foresaw  everything,  had  organ- 
ized a  reciprocal  service  of  homing  pigeons  ;  that  is  to 
say,  there  were  pigeons  at  La  Solitude  which,  when  re- 
leased, would  fly  to  a  certain  house  at  Paris,  and  pigeons 
there  whose  home  was  La  Solitude.  They  could  go  from 
one  place  to  the  other  under  the  hour.  This  neces'sarily 
implied  a  code  of  signals.  A  white  ribbon  or  thread  round 
a  pigeon's  neck  would  signify  "all  right;"  a  green  one,  that 
the  flight  was  deferred  until  the  next  night ;  red  would 
mean  danger;   black,  disaster. 

Neither  M.  de  Veridet  nor  the  Knights  of  the  Dagger  at- 
tached so  much  importance  to  the  failure  of  our  mission 
and  the  appearance  of  the  supposed  spy  as  did  Candolle 
and  myself.  They  thought  that  the  twenty-five  or  thirty 
men  of  the  escort,  reinforced  by  the  promised  Rouen  con- 
tingent, would  be  quite  strong  enough  to  protect  the  king 
from  mob  violence,  while  as  for  spies,  they  were  everywhere 
and  dogged  everybody.  Moreover,  the  man  who  had  fol- 
lowed us  might  be  a  highwayman  or  a  highwayman's  tout. 

In  any  case,  the  incident  was  not  sufficiently  grave  to 
justify  the  despatch  of  a  danger  signal,  which  would  mean 
in  effect  the  abandonment  of  the  enterprise,  and,  short  of 
that,  nothing  could  be  done. 

This  was  not  my  opinion ;  but  being  an  outsider  and  in 
a  minority  of  one,  I  deemed  it  expedient  to  hold  my  peace. 

During  the  morning  came  the  remainder  of  the  party. 
The  last-comers,  who  arrived  a  little  before  noon,  brought 
satisfactory  news.  All  was  going  on  well.  According  to 
the  latest  arrangements,  the  royal  family  would  arrive  at  St. 
Germain-en-Laye  about  midnight,  and  we  might  look   for 


100  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

them  and  the  first  division  of  the  escort  towards  two  o'clock 
on  Saturday  morning.  They  would  stop  at  La  Solitude 
only  just  long  enough  to  change  horses  and  breakfast — prob- 
ably not  more  than  half  an  hour. 

It  was  regarded  as  a  good  augury  that  the  gentlemen  of 
the  escort  had  all  passed  the  barriers  without  difficulty,  and 
that  the  few  gendarmes  whom  they  encountered  on  the  way 
neither  questioned  nor  seemed  to  note  them. 

So  far  good  ;  and  when  our  host  announced  at  second 
breakfast  that  a  white-ribboned  pigeon  had  just  "homed," 
confidence  became  certainty,  and  the  king's  health  was 
drunk  with  great  enthusiasm. 

The  day  was  spent  in  playing  tennis  and  raquette,  and 
strolling  in  the  grounds.  A  few  of  us  visited  the  stables 
and  inspected  the  count's  stud.  After  remarking  that  the 
horse  I  had  ridden  seemed  to  be  somewhat  under  my 
it,  M.  de  Veridet  kindly  offered  to  place  at  my  dispos- 
al an  animal  of  greater  power  and  substance,  yet  well-bred 
withal,  which  had  already  attracted  my  attention.  He  was 
a  big  horse  every  way,  and  so  high  (nearly  seventeen  hands) 
as  to  deserve  his  name  of  Goliath.  His  only  fault  was  a 
"  bit  of  a  temper,"  to  which,  knowing  that  temper  often 
indicates  quality,  [  did  not  object. 

'•  As  you  are  to  command  the  escort,  you  should  have  a 
horse  of  commanding  presence,"  said  the  count,  with  a  smile. 

It  was  an  offer  not  to  be  refused,  and  I  accepted  it  with 
gratitude. 

At  the  edge  of  dark,  Candolle  and  I  took  a  walk  down  the 
lane  as  far  as  the  high-road. 

It  was  a  narrow,  tortuous  old  lane,  winding  for  the  most 
pari  through  a  wood,  but  dipped  as  it  neared  the  main 
road,  forming  a  hollow  way  bordered  by  high  banks,  mak- 
:  this  point,  as  I  pointed  out  to  Candolle,  a  line  defen- 
sive position. 


BETRAYED  191 

"  A  handful  protected  by  a  breastwork  of  fallen  trees,  or 
an  overturned  cart,  might  hold  this  lane  against  a  host,"  I 
remarked. 

"  Provided  the  host  had  no  field-guns." 

"  Of  course.  I  assume  equality  of  weapons.  And  now 
tell  me  frankly,  Candolle,  what  you  think  of  the  outlook." 

"I  regard  it  as  fair — very  fair,  indeed;  almost  too  much 
so,  indeed." 

"You  mean  disaster  is  still  possible." 

"That  is  obvious.  There  may  be  a  breakdown  at  the 
last  moment,  though  our  young  friends  at  the  manor-house 
don't  seem  to  think  so.  I  mean  it  looks  as  though  the  po- 
lice were  asleep,  and  somehow  I  don't  think  they  are.  Any- 
how, I  shall  be  greatly  relieved  when  I  hear  the  clatter  of 
the  king's  escort  and  the  sound  of  his  carriage  wheels." 

And  then  we  retraced  our  steps,  thinking  anxiously  of  the 
morrow. 

Nobody  went  to  bed;  but  knowing  that  they  would  prob- 
ably get  no  rest  till  the  next  night  but  one,  the  more  sen- 
sible of  the  party  had  stolen  a  few  hours'  sleep  during  the 
day. 

We  supped  at  midnight,  and  between  one  and  two  o'clock 
went  to  the  stable  and  saddled  our  horses,  and  saw  them 
watered  and  fed. 

These  preparations  made,  we  betook  ourselves  to  the 
front  of  the  house  and  listened  in  excited  silence  for  the 
ring  of  hoofs,  the  rattle  of  wheels,  or  what  sound  might  her- 
ald the  king's  coming. 

Two  o'clock  went,  then  half-past  two,  then  three. 

An  hour's  delay  ;  that  was  nothing.  The  fugitives  might 
easily  have  been  delayed  an  hour  in  Paris  or  on  the  road. 
But  as  the  night  sped  and  the  great  clock  struck  quarter 
after  quarter,  and  four  o'clock  came  and  went,  and  the 
stillness   of  the    night    remained   unbroken,  hope    waned, 


IQ2 


FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 


and  the  most  sanguine  began  to  think  something  had  gone 
wrong. 

Yet  as  no  danger  signal  had  appeared,  there  was  still 
room  for  hope. 

At  length  the  count  proposed  that  some  of  us  should  ride 
a  few  miles  towards  Paris,  and  see  whether  his  expected 
guests  were  on  the  way;  to  which  I  agreed,  albeit  the  pro- 
ceeding seemed  rather  absurd  ;  for  if  they  were  actually  en 
route  they  had  every  reason  for  pushing  on,  and  naught  we 
might  do  could  hasten  their  arrival. 

All  wanted  to  go  ;  but  thinking  a  large  party  unnecessary, 
I  took  with  me  only  Candolle  and  one  other,  M.  St.  Jean, 
who,  in  the  event  of  our  meeting  the  king's  party,  would 
gallop  back  with  the  tidings  to  La  Solitude. 

We  went  quietly,  so  that  we  might  hear  the  better;  and 
when  about  half-way  clown  the  lane  we  heard  something 
that  made  our  pulses  beat  faster.  Pulling  up  and  listening, 
wc  fancied  we  could  distinguish  the  tramp  of  horses,  and 
either  the  ring  of  steel  or  the  rattle  of  wheels. 

As  we  went  on  these  sounds  grew  louder,  though  inter- 
mittently, owing,  doubtless,  to  the  presence  of  trees  and  the 
inequalities  of  the  ground. 

"It  is  they!  It  is  they!"  cried  St.  Jean,  excitedly. 
"Shall  I  go  back?" 

"  Xot  until  we  see  them,"  I  answered.  "  Don't  let  us 
make  a  mistake,  whatever  we  do." 

"  But  cannot  you  hear?  They  have  turned  into  the  lane." 

••  It  sounds  like  it.  All  the  same,  we  had  better  make 
sure." 

By  this  time  we  were  close  to  the  hollow  way, 
which  I  have  already  described,  and  Candolle.  who  was  a 
few  yards  ahead,  had  reached  one  of  the  many  bends  in  the 
winding  1 

••  I  list!"  he  whispered,  reining  in  his  horse,  and  raising 


BETRAYED  1 93 

his  hand  as  a  signal  for  us  to  do  the  same.     "  I  can  see 
them." 

"  Why  not  go  on,  then  ?" 

"  Because  I  am  not  quite  sure ;  there  are  too  many. 
The  escort  was  not  to  exceed  fourteen  or  fifteen ;  here 
are  at  least  thirty,  and  it  looks  as  though  more  were  be- 
hind.    Come  and  see  for  yourself,  but  keep  in  the  shade." 

I  rode  up  and  peered  over  Candolle's  shoulder. 

Day  was  breaking,  and  in  the  dim  half-light  I  beheld  a 
string  of  horsemen,  riding  silently,  three  abreast,  down  the 
hollow  way.  How  many,  there  was,  as  yet,  no  telling — 
we  could  see  only  one  end  of  the  string;  but  more,  I  felt 
sure,  than  Candolle  had  said,  and  for  aught  we  knew  there 
might  be  a  hundred  behind  them. 

"  Who  are  they?" 

"  Can  you  make  them  out  ?"  I  asked  Candolle,  who  had 
the  better  position  for  seeing. 

"  I  am  afraid — by  Heaven  they  are — gendarmes !  Back 
to  the  house,  Lebrun  !     Back  to  the  house  !" 

"  Wait  a  second.     Will  you  stand  by  me,  Candolle  ?" 

"  To  the  death." 

"  Good !  Monsieur  St.  Jean,  gallop  back  for  your  life. 
These  are  gendarmes — scores  of  them.  We  are  betrayed. 
Gallop  for  your  life  !  Let  fly  the  disaster  signal.  Urge  the 
count  and  our  friends  to  escape  at  once  by  the  other  road. 
Candolle  and  I  can  hold  this  pass  for  an  hour." 

"And  then?" 

"Not  another  word.     Go,  I  tell  you." 

St.  Jean  wheeled  his  horse  round,  and  went  off  at  full 
gallop. 
13 


CHAPTER    XXVII 
HOLDING   THE  PASS 

The  gendarmes  were  riding  slowly— perhaps  that  they 
might  make  the  less  noise;  and  as  three  cavaliers  occupied 
the  full  width  of  the  road,  they  rode  knee  to  knee.  Owing  to 
the  sinuosities  of  the  lane,  we  could  make  only  a  rough  guess 
at  their  numbers ;  but  as  twelve  ranks  were  already  in 
sight,  they  counted  at  least  thirty-six — possibly  twice  that 
number. 

We  did  not  reckon  on  holding  them  in  check  more  than 
twenty  minutes  or  half  an  hour,  for  the  odds  were  terribly 
against  us;  yet  less  so  than  might  appear.  The  high 
banks  and  close-growing  trees  that  rose  on  either  side  of 
the  hollow  way  rendered  deploying  impossible,  and  the 
gendarmes  were  so  huddled  together  that  they  could  scarce 
wield  their  swords ;  moreover,  the  rear  ranks  would  be  unable 
to  take  part  in  the  fight,  except  with  their  carbines  and  at 
the  risk  of  hitting  their  own  men. 

Moreover,  we  had  the  better  position  and  whatever 
advantage  comes  of  taking  your  enemy  by  surprise,  and 
hoped  by  a  sudden  attack  and  vigorous  charge  to  unhorse 
the  front  rank  and  throw  the  rest  into  confusion. 

As  yet,  though  it  grows  lighter  every  minute,  we  have  not 
been  seen.  Jiesides,  being  in  deep  shade,  one  behind  the 
other,  we  are  partly  hidden  by  an  overhanging  bush. 

When  the  head  of  the  column  is  about  half  a  furlong  from 
our  ambush,  we  see  that  the  time  is  come,  and,  drawing  OUT 
swords  i  pistols,  by  reason  of  the  rain,  might  have  missed  fire), 
we  rush  down  the  hill. 


HOLDING   THE    PASS  195 

The  foremost  Blues  draw  rein,  making  as  though  they  would 
halt;  but,  being  pushed  on  by  those  behind,  and  somebody 
calling  out,  "  Charge !  you  imbeciles,  they  are  only  two,"  they 
spur  on  their  horses  to  the  encounter. 

Yet,  irresolutely  withal,  and  too  late  ;  for  before  they  are 
well  under  way  we  are  at  them,  horse  to  horse,  man  to  man, 
steel  to  steel ;  wild  cries  of  fear  and  rage  pierce  the  air,  two 
horses  roll  over  on  the  slippery  ground,  a  third  gallops  rid- 
erless towards  the  manor-house,  and  the  prostrate  chargers 
struggle  to  their  feet  and  follow.  Of  the  three  gendarmes, 
two  have  received  their  quietus  from  our  swords;  the  third, 
in  whom  I  recognize  our  friend  with  the  red  hair,  crawls  to 
the  side  of  the  road  and  there  lies. 

Then  we  engage  the  second  rank,  or,  rather,  they  engage 
us,  charging  resolutely,  while  those  in  the  rear  let  fly  at  us 
with  their  pistols  and  carbines  ;  but  as  they  are  forced  to 
shoot  over  the  heads  of  those  in  front,  and  their  pieces,  by 
reason  of  the  dampness  of  their  powder,  often  miss  fire,  we 
take  no  harm,  and,  being  on  higher  ground  and  having  room 
to  wield  our  weapons  and  manoeuvre  our  horses,  still  keep 
the  upperhand.  Candolle,  a  fine  swordsman,  fights  like  a 
paladin  ;  and  my  height,  long  arm,  and  big  horse  give  me  a 
vast  advantage  over  the  Blues,  who,  for  the  most  part,  are 
short  men  on  small  horses.  Goliath  carries  me  splendid- 
ly, and  helps  potently  in  the  fight.  A  gendarme  slashes 
him  across  the  face  with  his  sabre,  whereupon  the  great 
horse  rears,  and,  lashing  out  with  his  fore -feet,  knocks 
the  man  and  his  mount  clear  over,  and  tramples  upon 
them. 

As  fast  as  one  rank  goes  down,  another,  thrust  forward 
by  those  behind,  comes  on  ;  and  albeit  the  gendarmes  are 
hampered  by  wounded  comrades  and  hindered  by  fallen 
horses,  some  of  whom,  having  been  lamed  by  kicks,  cause 
dire  confusion   by  their  ineffectual  efforts  to  rise,  we  are 


196  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

forced  to  back  inch  by  inch,  stubbornly  fighting  yet,  so  far, 
though  more  than  once  touched,  not  seriously  hurt. 

The  ground  about  us  is  like  a  shambles  :  the  cries  of  the 
wounded  and  of  the  unfortunates  who  fall  under  their 
horses'  feet,  the  yells  and  cries  of  the  men  whom  the  crush 
and  the  narrowness  of  the  lane  prevent  from  coming  to  the 
front,  are  maddening. 

Still  the  foe  gains  on  us  ;  and  knowing  that  once  we  are 
out  of  the  hollow  way  and  beyond  the  crest  of  the  hill,  the 
advantage  of  position  will  be  reversed,  I  tell  Candolle  that 
the  game  is  nearly  up,  and  we  had  better  prepare  for  flight, 
when  we  hear  a  ringing  cheer  behind  us,  and  our  comrades 
from  the  manor-house  come  galloping  to  our  help. 

This  is  against  my  orders,  but  the  brave  fellows  have  too 
keen  a  sense  of  honor  to  leave  friends  in  the  lurch.  Yet 
they  had  done  better  to  obey,  for  at  the  very  moment  of 
their  appearance  there  befell  a  disaster  which  I  had  feared 
from  the  first  without  being  able  to  prevent. 

A  number  of  gendarmes,  dismounting  from  their  horses, 
had  crept  furtively  through  the  wood,  and  now  open  fire 
on  us  from  the  top  of  the  bank  which  overlooked  the  road. 
Candolle's  sword-arm  is  broken  by  a  bullet ;  and  as  I  wheel 
my  horse  round  and  give  the  order  to  retreat,  I  am  hit  in 
the  shoulder,  and  Goliath,  shot  through  the  head,  falls  in  a 
heap  and  pins  me  to  the  ground. 

While  I  am  in  this  predicament  a  Clue  strikes  me  with 
his  sabre,  and  horse  after  horse  passes  over  me. 

■•  Done  for  at  last,"  I  think;  "they  cannot  all  miss  me." 
The  thought  is  answered  by  a  blow  on  the  head,  and  I 
know  no  more. 


chapter  xxviii 

captured 

Pitch-dark. 

I  thought  at  first  that  I  had  passed  into  another,  though 
not  a  better,  world ;  next,  that  I  had  wakened  from  a  bad 
dream  ;  then,  recalling  the  fight  and  what  followed,  that  I 
was  still  prone  in  the  hollow  way,  pinned  to  the  ground  by 
the  carcase  of  my  dead  horse,  for  I  could  neither  turn 
my  body  nor  raise  my  head  ;  but  it  rested  on  something 
that  felt  like  a  pillow,  and  on  groping  about  I  found  bed- 
clothes ;  also,  that  my  right  arm  was  bound  to  my  chest  and 
my  body  swathed  in  bandages. 

And  my  legs !  Good  heavens !  was  it  possible  that 
one  or  both  had  been  amputated  while  I  slept  ?  No  ;  I 
could  move  my  toes.  And  then  I  remembered  having  heard 
that  people  who  had  lost  their  legs  could  still  feel  their 
toes ;  but  the  doubt  thereby  engendered  was  speedily  set 
at  rest  by  shoots  of  pain  in  both  my  legs,  and  it  dawned 
on  my  mind  that  they  had  been  made  fast  with  splints  and 
other  surgical  appliances,  and  were  benumbed  by  remain- 
ing long  in  one  position. 

So  far  good.  Though  badly  crumpled  up  and  nearly  as 
helpless  as  though  coffined  and  entombed,  I  was  alive  and 
in  full  possession  of  my  senses  and  members,  for  the  which 
I  devoutly  thanked  God.  But  where  was  I  ?  In  prison  ? 
It  could  hardly  be  otherwise.  I  had  been  struck  down 
just  as  I  gave  the  order  to  retreat,  and  the  fire  from  the 
bank  was  so  hot  and  the  pursuit  so  vigorous  that  I  feared 
it  had  gone  ill  with  my  friends.  They  were,  doubtless,  all 
either  captured  or  killed. 


19S  FOR    HONOR   AND    LITE 

Yes,  I  must  be  in  prison.  But  where,  and  in  what  prison  ? 
Was  it  possible  that  I  had  been  taken  to  Paris  without 
knowing  it,  and  lodged  in  the  Conciergerie,  or  the  Madelon- 
ettes,  or  the  Abbaye  ?  Vain  queries  ;  I  could  neither  see 
aught  nor  hear  aught.  It  was  either  an  exceptionally  black 
night,  or  I  was  in  an  uncommonly  deep  dungeon. 

I  waited  for  the  dawn  with  feverish  impatience,  and  after 
what  seemed  a  vigil  of  many  hours  the  darkness  became 
less  dense,  and  presently  a  faint  light  shone  on  the  wall 
and  a  silvery  sunbeam  fell  on  my  face. 

How  I  blessed  that  sunbeam.  It  came,  as  I  soon  saw, 
from  a  window  which,  though  heavily  curtained,  had  not 
been  rendered  altogether  impervious  to  the  light.  As  the 
sun  gained  power  the  room  grew  less  darksome,  and  I  saw 
that,  whatever  else  it  might  be,  it  was  no  dungeon.  It  was 
well  furnished,  and  my  bed  was  of  the  sort  usually  found  in 
good  houses. 

Soon  I  heard  footsteps  and  voices,  and  after  a  while  a 
woman  in  peasant  costume  entered,  and,  drawing  aside  the 
curtains,  let  in  a  Hood  of  light.  Then  she  looked  at  me, 
and  asked  whether  I  was  right  in  my  head  yet. 

'•  I  hope  so,"  quoth  I.  "Could  you  oblige  me  by  telling 
me  where  I  am  ?'' 

"  At  the  manor-house  of  La  Solitude,  to  be  sure." 

"But  how?" 

"It's  no  use  asking  me  questions;  I  cannot  answer 
them/' 

"  Why  ?" 

uch  is  my  orders  ;"  and  with  that  she  emitted  the  room. 
Her  manner  left  no  doubt  in  my  mind  that,  though  not  in 
jail.  I  was  a  prisoner.  No  gentleman's  servant  could  have 
.  ed  so  rudely.  Hut  where  were  the  others  (if  any 
of  them  survived),  and  what  had  become  of  the  Comte  de 
Vei  idet  and  his  family  ? 


CAPTURED  I99 

In  about  an  hour,  as  nearly  as  I  could  judge,  the  door 
opened  again,  and  there  entered  a  little  spare  gentleman, 
dressed  in  sober  black,  and  wearing  a  white  peruke.  He 
had  a  queer,  puckered  up,  yet  not  unkindly  face,  a  Roman 
nose,  and  bright  eyes  ;  in  one  hand  he  carried  a  cocked  hat, 
in  the  other  a  gold-headed  cane. 

"  The  doctor,  of  course,"  I  thought. 

"Jeannette  tells  me  you  are  yourself  again,"  he  said, 
coming  to  my  bedside.     "  How  do  you  feel  ?" 

"  Like  a  mummy  who  has  been  restored  to  life  without 
being  unrolled." 

"  Ah  !  ah  !  Not  a  bad  comparison,  and  perhaps  apter  than 
you  are  aware  of.  You  have  been  restored  to  life.  If  I 
were  not  an  old  army  surgeon  and  a  deft  hand  at  human 
carpentry,  though  now  only  a  village  doctor,  your  mangled 
remains  would  long  ere  this  have  been  consigned  to  your 
mother  earth.  Let  me  see  ;  two  ribs  and  one  leg  broken, 
the  other  leg  badly  contused  ;  one  bullet  in  the  shoulder,  an- 
other in  the  thigh  ;  a  fractured  collar-bone  ;  a  crack  on  the 
skull  that  produced  concussion  of  the  brain  ;  and  a  few 
minor  cuts  and  bruises.  You  were  brought  here  in  a  sheet, 
Monsieur  Lebrun.  But  you  had  your  compensations  ;  if 
the  Blues  had  not  believed  you  to  be  dead,  they  would  not 
have  left  you  alive.  And  seeing  that  you  killed  and 
wounded  a  round  dozen  of  them,  no  wonder.  When  I  ar- 
rived on  the  field  of  battle  and  found  you  buried  under 
that  monster  of  a  horse,  I,  too,  believed  you  were  no  more  ; 
but  on  discovering  that  the  vital  spark  was  not  quite  ex- 
tinct, I  said  to  myself :  "  Here  is  a  man  of  fine  physique  ;  I 
will  try  to  pull  him  through.  And  I  have  pulled  you  through, 
though  it  will  be  some  time  before  I  can  set  you  on  your 
legs." 

"  So  I  am  indebted  to  your  kindness  and  skill  for  my  life, 
Monsieur  le  Docteur — " 


200  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

"  Carouge." 

••  Monsieur  le  Docteur  Carouge.  I  owe  you  my  life,  and 
I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart." 

"Yes,  I  think  I  may  say  that  I  have  saved  your  life — for 
the  time  being.  But  it  is  all  labor  in  vain,  you  know.  So 
soon  as  you  are  well  enough  to  travel,  you  are  to  be  taken 
to  Paris,  there  to  undergo  amputation  of  the  head  ;  and 
that  is  an  operation  which  I  never  knew  any  patient  sur- 
vive." 

"  I  am  condemned  already,  then  ?" 

"Not  at  all.  But  you  will  be  tried  by  the  Revolutionary 
Tribunal,  and  that  admirable  institution  is  not  likely  to  show 
mercy  to  a  man  who  has  been  concerned  in  a  plot  to  carry 
oil  Louis  Capet  and  Madame  Veto,  and  has  killed  with  his 
own  hand  six  or  seven  gendarmes.  Yes,  I  am  afraid  you 
are  destined  to  make  the  acquaintance  of  La  Belle  Guillo- 
tine. But  you  need  not  worry  about  it.  I  can  promise  you 
a  long  respite.  You  will  not  be  out  of  my  hands  for  three 
months,  at  the  least." 

"  And  how  long  have  I  been  here?" 

"Fifteen  days,  and  unconscious  all  the  time.  Happily 
so.  You  were  as  motionless  under  the  knife  as  if  you  had 
been  in  a  cataleptic  fit;  and  without  the  perfect  physiologic 
rest  which  your  comatose  condition  insured,  it  is  just  possi- 
ble that  my  skill  in  human  carpentry  might  not  have  availed 
to  save  your  life." 

••  And  the  others,  and  the  count  ?" 

"Your  fellow -conspirators,  you   mean.      Three  or  four 

were  killed  in  the  hollow  way;   the  others  escaped,  to  the 

enragement  of  the  Blues,  who  say  their  cartridges 

so   damp  that   they  could   not  shoot  properly,  their 

hoists  so  tired  that  they  could  not  catch  the  fugitives.     The 

ant  Comte  de  Veridel  also  escaped  with  his  family,  and 

their  to  believe  that  tiny  have  succeeded  in  cross- 


CAPTURED  20I 

ing  the  frontier.     But  the  government  has  confiscated  his 
property,  and  his  house  is  in  possession  of  the  police." 

"  Do  you  know  the  names  of  the  three  or  four  who  were 
killed?1' 

"  I  have  no  idea.  I  take  no  interest  in  the  dead.  Apro- 
pos of  names,  yours  is  Lebrun,  I  understand  ?" 

"Yes;  Jacques  Lebrun." 

"  Commercial  traveller  for  the  house  of  Lafond  &  Co., 
clothiers  and  woollen  merchants  ?" 

"  Precisely.     Do  you  know  them  ?" 

"  No  ;  neither  do  the  police.  They  seem  just  a  little 
mystified,  those  gentlemen  of  the  police.  One  of  them  was 
here  the  other  day  for  the  purpose  of  identifying  you.  He 
thought  you  were  the  ci-devant  Vicomte  de  Lancy.  But  when 
I  pointed  out  that,  according  to  his  description,  the  gentle- 
man in  question  is  five  feet  five  inches  high,  and  that,  ac- 
cording to  my  measurement,  you  are  six  feet  and  an  inch, 
he  was  obliged  to  admit  that  he  had  made  a  bad  shot.  He 
said  that  the  house  of  Lafond  did  not  exist,  and  that  your 
passport,  which  has  been  sent  to  Paris,  was— slightly  irreg- 
ular, and  wanted  me,  when  you  were  able  to  converse,  to 
ask  you  a  few  questions,  and  report  your  answers  to  him. 
But  I  told  him  that,  though  a  good  patriot,  I  was  no  spy ; 
and  the  gentleman  went  away  very  little  wiser  than  he 
came." 

"  I  am  greatly  obliged  to  you.  I  did  not  know  you  were 
a  patriot." 

"  I  am,  though,  with  a  big  P.,  and  I  have  the  honor  of 
being  the  president  of  our  local  Jacobin  club."  And  then, 
taking  a  pinch  of  snuff  and  smiling  ironically,  he  added  : 
"  I  love  France  too  much  to  leave  it,  and  value  my  head  too 
highly  to  lose  it." 

From  which  I  inferred  that  Dr.  Carouge  was  a  time- 
server  ;  but  I  always  speak  of  a  man  as  I  find  him,  and,  de- 


202  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

spite  his  sardonic  humor,  he  had  a  good  heart,  and  proved 
a  true  friend. 

He  came  to  see  me  every  day,  and  we  had  many  pleas- 
ant talks;  and  when  I  was  well  enough  to  be  shifted  to  a 
couch,  and  the  gendarmes,  who  had  so  far  taken  no  notice 
of  me,  proposed  to  keep  guard  in  my  room  night  and  day, 
lest  I  should,  perchance,  slip  through  their  fingers,  the  doc- 
tor saved  me  from  the  annoyance  by  personally  answering 
for  my  safe  custody,  while  I,  on  my  part,  gave  my  word  of 
honor  that  so  long  as  I  was  under  his  charge  I  would  not 
attempt  to  escape. 

This  arrangement  enabled  me  to  take  the  air,  greatly  to 
the  benefit  of  my  health,  so  soon  as  I  could  hobble  about 
on  crutches.  Nor  was  this  all.  He  kept  me  at  L,a  Solitude 
for  weeks  after  I  had  become  convalescent  by  reporting  to 
headquarters  that  I  was  still  unfit  to  travel,  and  the  gen- 
darmes, who  had  the  run  of  the  count's  cellar  and  were 
having  a  fine  time,  did  not  say  him  nay. 

But  this  was  too  good  to  last ;  and  one  day  there  came  a 
peremptory  order  from  Paris  to  take  me  thither  the  follow- 
ing week,  even  if  I  died  on  the  way. 

The  doctor  was  greatly  disturbed. 

"To  think,-'  he  said,  "that  I  have  saved  your  life  and 
healed  your  wounds,  and  the  fractured  bones  of  your  leg 
have  united  so  beautifully  that  it  is  stronger  than  the  other, 
yet  not  a  hair's -breadth  shorter.  To  think  that  I  have 
done  all  this  in  order  that  you  may  be  made  shorter  by  the 
[!  It  is  too  bad.  Word  of  honor,  it  is  too  bad.  But 
don't  you  want  a  pair  of  shoes,  or,  better  still,  two  pairs?'' 

The  irrelevancy  of  this  question  took  me  rather  aback, 
hut  as  I  did  need  shoes  1  said  '■  Yes." 

"Good!  Rat,  our  village  cobbler,  shall  come  this  day 
and  measure  you.     Have  you  money?" 

"  Yes,  in  the  lining  i  A  my  waisti  i  »at." 


CAPTURED  203 

"  It  is  bad  to  have  all  your  eggs  in  one  basket,  my  dear 
sir.  Paris  turnkeys  are  capable  of  anything.  They  would 
rob  a  cripple  of  his  crutches.  Had  you  not  better  divide 
it?  I  think  I  can  find  a  safe  hiding-place.  Rat  is  a  man 
of  confidence/' 

I  knew  what  the  doctor  meant,  and  making  a  slit  in  my 
waistcoat  lining  I  handed  him  twenty  gold  pieces  and  as 
much  in  paper. 

The  cobbler  came  and  took  my  measure,  and  shortly 
afterwards  the  doctor  brought  the  shoes. 

"  Be  good  enough  to  observe,  Monsieur  Lebrun,"  said  he, 
"  that  between  the  welts  and  the  soles  of  these  shoes  with 
buckles  your  money  is  hidden ;  in  one  of  those  with  ties  is 
ingeniously  concealed  a  highly  tempered  little  saw,  warrant- 
ed to  cut  iron,  in  the  other  is  an  amputating-knife,  with 
which,  in  case  of  need,  you  might  cut  a  throat — a  turnkey's, 
for  instance — as  the  alternative  of  having  your  own  head 
cut  off." 

"  I  understand,  Monsieur  le  Docteur.  The  saw  for  es- 
cape, the  knife  for  defence,  or,  perchance,  carving  a  hole 
in  my  prison  door." 

The  next  morning  I  was  put  in  irons  and  driven  away 
under  charge  of  two  gendarmes,  both  armed  to  the  teeth. 

At  parting  Dr.  Carouge  embraced  me  with  great  affection. 

"You  must  escape,"  he  whispered.  "  Stick  at  nothing  to 
keep  your  head  on  your  shoulders.  You  will  never  get  an- 
other.    Your  destination  is  the  Conciergerie." 


CHATTER    XXIX 
IN     PRISON 

The  Conciergerie,  once  a  royal  palace,  now  a  prison  and 
the  Court-house  of  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal,  was  a  vast 
building  on  the  banks  of  the  Seine,  of  terrible  memories 
and  forbidding  aspect. 

On  the  steps  leading  up  to  the  principal  entrance  were 
a  number  of  women,  harpies  of  the  guillotine,  who,  as  I 
alighted  from  the  carriage,  shouted  with  joy,  denounced 
me  as  an  aristocrat,  and  assailed  me  with  ribald  abuse. 

We  entered  by  a  wicket,  or  low  door,  in  the  great  gate. 
Three  or  four  yards  farther  on  was  a  second  wicket,  guard- 
ed, like  the  first,  by  an  armed  porter,  opening  into  a  vesti- 
bule, where  the  governor  of  the  house  sat  enthroned  in  a 
capacious  chair.  To  the  left  was  a  room  divided  by  an 
iron  grating  into  two  parts,  respectively  known  as  the  "  office  " 
and  the  "back  office."  Here  were  three  young  men,  bare- 
headed and  divested  of  collars  or  coats.  Their  hands  were 
tied  behind  their  backs,  and  their  hair  was  cut  close  to  their 
heads. 

I  knew  without  asking  that  these  unfortunates  had  been 
condemned  to  death,  and  were  waiting  for  the  cart  which 
was  to  carry  them  to  the  place  of  execution. 

"•  Vour  name  and  quality?"  demanded  the  governor. 

"Jacques  Lebrun,  commercial  traveller." 

"  Age  about  twenty  five,  I  suppose  ?" 

I  did  not  contradict  him.  The  trials  of  the  last  few 
months  had  increased  my  apparent  age  by  years,  and  it 
might  be  an  idvantage  to  be  thought  older  than  I  was. 


IN    PRISON  205 

After  my  name  had  been  entered  and  my  person  and  my 
valise  searched  and  my  fetters  removed,  I  was  handed  over 
to  two  warders  (or,  as  they  were  generally  called,  gate-keep- 
ers), who  led  me  through  many  iron  doors  to  a  vaulted  pas- 
sage, damp  and  dark  and  evil-smelling,  lined  with  cells,  into 
one  of  which  I  was  shown  with  scant  ceremony. 

"That  is  your  billet,  No.  17,"  said  the  senior  warder, 
helping  me  forward  with  a  push,  and  then  shut  and  locked 
and  barred  the  ponderous  door. 

It  was  a  horrible  hole,  unfit  for  a  wild  beast's  den,  and, 
as  I  soon  discovered,  contained  animals  less  cleanly  and 
more  ferocious  than  the  worst  of  the  carnivora. 

The  cell  was  half  lighted  by  a  small  barred  window, 
blurred  with  the  dust  of  years ;  the  walls  streamed  with 
moisture,  the  filth  was  unspeakable,  the  air  so  close  and 
fetid  that  I  nearly  fainted. 

On  one  of  three  wooden  benches,  covered  with  litter 
dirtier  than  I  had  ever  seen  in  a  stable,  sat  two  men  play- 
ing dice  for  coppers  and  drinking  brandy — men  of  aspect 
so  vile,  and  clad  in  garments  so  ragged  and  foul,  that  they 
looked  less  human  than  baboons. 

As  the  door  banged  behind  me  they  looked  up  from  their 
game.  "  Hello  !  a  pal !"  exclaimed  one  of  them.  "  What 
are  you  in  for  ?  murder  or  highway  robbery  ?  Come,  don't 
be  sulky.  You  are  not  the  first  bloke  that's  been  lagged, 
by  a  long  way.  Have  a  drink ;  it'll  warm  your  innards 
and  lighten  your  heart." 

I  was  going  to  answer  with  an  indignant  negative,  when, 
reflecting  that,  as  I  was  shut  up  with  these  ruffians,  and 
could  not  escape  from  their  companionship,  it  might  be 
well  not  to  offend  them,  I  took  the  proffered  glass,  and  let 
a  few  drops  of  the  fiery  liquid  pass  my  lips.  Then  they 
asked  me  to  pay  my  footing — bicnvenue  (welcome)  they  called 
it — whereupon  I  threw  them  an  assignat,  the  worth  of  which 


2  06  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

so  far  exceeded  their  expectations  that  they  called  me  a 
good  prince,  and  insisted  on  shaking  hands. 

"  Where  do  you  sleep  ?''  I  inquired. 

On  this  they  laughed  long  and  loud. 

"  Here,  to  be  sure  ;  these  are  our  beds  "  (pointing  to  the 
litter-strewn  benches)  ;  "  and  here  we  are  night  and  day, 
and  never  go  out.  This  is  our  world.  Have  you  never 
been  in  quod  before  ?  No !  But  you  don't  tell  us  what 
you  have  been  up  to.  Forging  ?  Still  no  answer  !  Per- 
haps you  are  a  royalist  or  counter-revolutionist?" 

'•  Yes,  something  of  the  sort." 

''Why  the  devil  have  they  put  you  here,  then?"  said  the 
fellow,  in  a  tone  of  contempt.  "  Thank  goodness,  we  are 
not  royalists,  the  Angel  and  I.  He  is  a  maker  of  Hash- 
notes  and  counterfeit  coin.  I  am  a  house-breaker.  They 
say,  also,  that  I  have  committed  a  few  murders  ;  and  the 
name  I  go  by  is  Coupegorge  (Cutthroat). 

And  then  Coupegorge,  who  was  "forward  in  drink,"  as 
they  say  in  Lancashire,  narrated  some  of  his  exploits,  the 
ferocity  of  which  made  my  blood  run  cold.  As  he  himself 
said,  with  diabolic  glee,  he  had  committed  enough  crimes 
to  render  him  worthy  of  being  broken  on  the  wheel. 

By  nightfall  Coupegorge  and  the  Angel  (probably  thus 
called  because  of  his  likeness  to  a  fiend),  having  made  them- 
selves blind  drunk,  rolled  themselves  in  their  rotten  straw. 

Mine  was  too  filthy  to  touch,  much  less  to  use  as  bed- 
clothes, so,  pushing  it  on  the  floor  with  my  foot,  I  stretched 
myself  on  the  bare  boards,  and  while  sitting,  while  lying, 
sometimes  getting  a  few  winks  of  uneasy  sleep,  got  through 
the  night. 

In  the  morning  two  of  the  warders  on  duty  brought  us 
I.  and  replenished  my  fellow-prisoners'  brandy- 
bottle,  for  which  they  paid  out  of  the  money  1  had  given 
them  for  my  footing. 


IN    PRISON  207 

Then  things  went  on  as  before  —  Coupegorge  and  the 
Angel  dicing,  quarrelling,  smoking,  drinking,  and  dozing ; 
myself  watching  them  in  dull  apathy  and  deepening  dis- 
gust. 

Yet  thinking  it  better  to  have  their  good-will,  such  as  it 
was,  than  their  ill-will,  I  treated  them  civilly  ;  but  when  they 
demanded  more  money,  and  on  my  refusal  became  abusive 
and  violent,  I  just  knocked  their  heads  together  —  no  very 
difficult  feat,  the  wretches  being  weak  of  body  and  sodden 
with  drink. 

After  this  they  treated  me  with  respect ;  but  the  ruffians 
were  always  with  me,  and  their  vile  language  and  repulsive 
ways,  the  fumes  of  their  bad  brandy  and  worse  tobacco,  the 
poisonous  air,  the  swarms  of  rats  and  other  vermin  still 
more  pestilent,  the  moral  and  physical  defilement  of  the 
place  made  No.  17  an  inferno  whose  horrors  will  never 
be  effaced  from  my  memory.  I  grew  so  desperate,  indeed, 
that  had  the  ordeal  lasted  much  longer  I  should  either  have 
gone  mad,  or,  by  way  of  ending  it,  attacked  the  armed 
warders  who  brought  our  food. 

On  the  ninth  or  tenth  day  of  my  detention — I  forget  which, 
for  I  had  lost  count  of  time — two  gendarmes  and  a  warder 
came  into  the  cell  and  said  I  was  wanted  "  for  an  inter- 
rogation," and  must  go  with  them. 

I  would  have  gone  anywhere  to  escape  for  a  while  from 
my  hideous  surroundings,  and  put  out  my  hands  willingly 
for  the  handcuffs,  which,  albeit  there  were  so  many  to  guard 
me,  were  deemed  necessary  for  my  safe-keeping. 

Then  I  was  marched  between  the  two  gendarmes,  the 
warder  following,  through  stony  passages,  till  we  came  to  a 
staircase,  up  which  we  went,  and  I  was  presently  ushered 
into  a  room  where  two  gentlemen,  one  of  whom  I  took  to 
be  an  examining  judge,  the  other  his  secretary,  sat  at  a 
table  covered  with  books  and  papers. 


208  FOR    HONOR    AXD    LIFE 

"  The  prisoner  Jacques  Lebrun,''  announced  the  warder. 

'•  Very  well,"  said  the  judge.  Then  to  me,  after  glancing 
at  his  papers :  "  You  are  described  as  a  man  of  violent  tem- 
per and  great  strength,  prisoner ;  but  if  you  will  promise  to 
refrain  from  violence  during  the  interrogation,  we  will  dis- 
pense with  those  handcuffs." 

I  promised,  with  a  mental  reservation  that  I  would  not 
be  taken  back  to  Xo.  i  7  without  a  struggle  which  should 
cost  somebody  his  life. 

When  the  handcuffs  had  been  removed,  the  gendarmes 
and  the  warder  were  ordered  to  withdraw  and  wait  within 
call,  and  I  was  provided  with  a  chair. 

The  judge  opened  the  interrogation  with  a  little  prelim- 
inary talk  on  things  in  general,  and  was  so  affable  withal, 
and  his  questions,  when  he  did  begin  to  ask  them,  were  so 
craftily  put  that  had  I  not,  remembering  De  Lancy's  warn- 
ing, been  on  my  guard,  I  might  have  made  damaging  ad- 
missions unawares. 

Not  that  my  answers  were  likely  to  influence  my  fate — 
my  fight  with  the  gendarmes  was  quite  enough  to  insure 
my  condemnation.  But  for  the  sake  of  the  friends  who 
had  sheltered  me  I  meant  to  preserve  my  incognito  as 
long  as  might  be ;  I  was  also  resolved  to  give  no  infor- 
mation that  might  compromise  the  vicomte  and  his  fellow- 
conspirators. 

When  the  judge  found  that  fair  words  and  guileful  ways 
were  lavished  on  me  in  vain,  he  knitted  his  brows  and  al- 
tered his  tactics. 

"  Vou  are  a  commercial  traveller.  Were  you  brought  up 
t<>  business  ?"   he  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  I. 

■■  By  your  father?" 

-\ 

"Where  is  your  father  at  present?" 


IN    PRISON  209 

"  Not  being  a  clairvoyant,  Monsieur  le  Juge,  I  am  unable 
to  say." 

"But  you  could  give  me  his  address?" 

"  I  would  rather  not,  though." 

"  Why  ?" 

"  You  might  send  for  him,  and  I  should  be  very  sorry  to 
see  my  father  here." 

"  But  you  can  give  me  the  address  of  the  house — Lafond 
&  Co. — by  whom  you  say  you  were  employed." 

"Paris." 

"  That's  too  vague  ;  and  the  police  have  sought  all  Paris 
in  vain  for  these  gentlemen." 

"  I  am  very  sorry  to  say,  Monsieur  le  Juge,  that  I  can 
give  you  no  further  information  on  the  subject  than  is  con- 
tained in  my  passport." 

"Your  passport  is  a  forgery,  as  you  well  know." 

"Possibly." 

''  Where  did  you  obtain  it  ?" 

"  That  I  cannot  tell  you,  nor  aught  else  that  might  get 
anybody  into  trouble." 

But  this  was  mere  skirmishing.  The  judge  cared  nothing 
about  my  father  or  the  mythical  Lafond  &  Co.  His  ob- 
ject, as  presently  appeared,  was  to  obtain  information  touch- 
ing the  conspiracy,  which,  though  detected  and  defeated, 
had  not  yet  been  thoroughly  bottomed  ;  neither  had  the 
police  been  successful  in  arresting  or  even  identifying  all 
the  conspirators.  This  I  suspected  at  the  time  and  learned 
later  on.  The  judge  was  particularly  anxious  to  obtain  a 
full  list  of  them,  and  was  so  curious  about  De  Lancy  that  I 
felt  sure  he  was  still  at  large. 

But  I  would  not  admit  that  I   had  ever  met   the   ex- 
vicomte,  which  so  annoyed  my  questioner  that  he  rated  me 
roundly,  saying  that  if  I  did  not  answer  more   frankly  it 
would  be  the  worse  for  me. 
14 


2IO  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

"  How  so  ?"  I  demanded.  "  You  are  sure  to  send  me  to 
the  Revolutionary  Tribunal,  sooner  or  later,  and  the  Tri- 
bunal will  send  me  to  the  headsman.  What  can  be  worse 
than  that?" 

"  If  you  make  full  confession  you  may  not  be  sent  to  the 
Tribunal,  while  if  you  remain  obdurate  I  can  have  you  put 
in  a  less  comfortable  cell." 

"  That  is  impossible,"  I  exclaimed,  hotly.  "  There  is  no 
less  comfortable  cell  than  No.  17  on  this  side  of  the  Styx. 
It  is  a  stye  at  the  best,  and  Coupegorge  and  the  Angel  make 
it  a  hell.  A  less  comfortable  cell,  indeed  !  I  would  rather 
lie  in  a  dog-kennel." 

'■And  have  they  actually  herded  you  with  common  male- 
factors ?  That  is  against  the  regulations ;  it  shall  be  seen 
to." 

The  judge  rang  a  bell  which  stood  on  his  table,  where- 
upon entered  the  warder  and  the  two  gendarmes. 

"Why  have  you  put  the  prisoner  Lebrun  in  No.  17?" 
asked  the  judge. 

"Because  we  were  ordered,"  answered  the  warder. 

"There  must  be  some  mistake.  He  ought  not  to  have 
been  put  there.  Take  him  to  the  governor  and  say  I  said 
so.     Stay  ;  I  will  give  you  a  line." 

"  You  may  go,  Lebrun,"  added  the  judge,  when  the  line 
was  written.  "  I  hope  that  at  our  next  interview  you  will 
be  more  communicative.     It  will  be  worth  your  while." 

When  we  were  out  of  the  room  the  warder  made  as 
though  he  would  handcuff  me  again.  Hut  as  he  was  taking 
the  irons  from  his  pocket  1  whipped  his  sword  out  of  its 
sheath,  and  put  my  back  against  the  wall. 

"  Now  look  here,"  I  said,  quietly.  "  I  don't  want  to  give 
any  trouble,  and  I  promise  to  go  quietly;  but  if  you 
try  to  put  those  things  on  again,  I  shall  do  somebody  a 
mis<  liief." 


IN    PRISON  211 

"  Well,  you  are  a  queer  customer,"  returned  the  gen- 
darme.    "  However,  let  it  be  as  you  say  ;  I  agree." 

"  Word  of  honor?" 

"  Word  of  honor." 

"Good!  Here  is  your  sword  —  and  something  else," 
slipping  a  five-franc  piece  into  his  hand. 

"Allons  /"  says  he  ;  and  we  marched  in  the  same  order  as 
before  to  the  office,  where  we  found  the  governor,  or,  more 
properly,  head  turnkey,  sitting  in  his  chair  of  state. 

I  had  noticed  previously,  and  I  saw  now,  that  everybody 
toadied  to  this  man  ;  and  it  struck  me  that  if  I  took  a  rather 
different  line  it  might  be  to  my  advantage. 

When  the  warder  had  delivered  his  message  and  the 
judge's  note,  the  chief  referred  to  his  register,  and  then,  turn- 
ing to  me,  said  that  there  had  been  a  slight  mistake  —  I 
had  been  put  in  No.  17  instead  of  No.  71,  and  he  inquired 
whether  I  would  lie  on  straw  or  a  mattress. 

"  Well,  if  the  straw  is  as  filthy  as  that  in  No.  17  I  should 
prefer  a  mattress,"  quoth  I. 

"  In  that  case  there  will  be  a  charge  of  twenty-five  francs 
a  month,"  says  he. 

"  Good  !  I  will  pay  it.  And  if  I  can  have  a  cell  to  my- 
self I  will  pay  double." 

"  A  cell  to  yourself !  Perhaps  you  would  like  a  servant 
to  wait  on  you  ?" 

"  I  should.     Can  I  have  one  ?" 

"A  thousand  thunders!  I  believe  the  fellow  fancies  he 
is  in  a  hotel.  Put  him  in  56,  Marteau.  I  suppose  he  is 
a  quiet  prisoner." 

"  Very,"  answered  the  warder,  with  a  grin  ;  "  only  he 
rather  objects  to  handcuffs." 

"  They  all  do.  You  will  be  doubled  up  with  the  ci-devant 
Marquis  de  Lasalle,  prisoner.  You  can  make  a  servant 
of  him,  if  you  like.     It  would  be  something"  new  to   have 


212  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

an  ex-noble  waiting  on  a  commercial  traveller.     You  may 

go." 

This  time  Marteau  was  my  sole  escort,  and  I  perceived 
that  the  tip  had  disposed  him  in  my  favor. 

"  It  was  rather  cool  of  you  to  ask  the  governor  for  a  cell 
all  to  yourself,"  he  observed,  familiarly,  as  we  went  along. 
"  But,  as  I  said  before,  you  are  a  cool  customer;  and  if  you 
are  willing  to  pay  double,  I  don't  see  why,  and — "  hesi- 
tating. 

"  Stand  something  for  the  warder  who  stands  my  friend. 
Of  course  that  goes  without  saying." 

"  Well,  it  can  perhaps  be  managed — after  awhile.  If  we 
were  full  it  could  not  be  done  at  any  price.  I  shall  also 
say  a  good  word  for  you  to  my  colleagues." 

"Thank  you,"  I  said,  indifferently,  as  though  I  cared 
very  little  about  it ;  for  to  show  anxiety  were  to  betray  my 
purpose.  I  wanted  to  be  alone,  because  I  meant  to  escape. 
J  hit  unless  my  fellow -prisoner  were  cither  willing  to  keep 
my  secret,  possibly  to  his  own  undoing,  or  sufficiently  res- 
olute and  courageous  to  take  part  in  the  adventure,  es- 
cape would  be  impossible  ;  and  these  being  conditions  on 
which  I  could  not  reckon,  it  was  absolutely  necessary,  by 
hook  or  by  crook,  to  have  a  cell  to  myself  for  at  least  a 
night  or  two. 


CHAPTER    XXX 
WE    MEET    AGAIN 

Had  I  been  put  into  cell  56  on  my  arrival  at  the  Con- 
ciergerie,  I  should  have  called  it,  as  indeed  it  was,  clamp, 
dirty,  and  pestilential ;  but  after  No.  17  it  seemed  an  abode 
of  luxury. 

There  were  two  beds,  with  mattresses,  sheets,  and  cover- 
lets (which,  though  far  from  clean,  were  better  than  a  shake- 
down of  rotten  straw),  two  wooden  stools,  two  barred  win- 
dows, a  three-legged  stool,  a  table,  and  not  much  else. 

But  prisons  never  are  pleasant  places,  and  the  revolu- 
tion treated  its  victims  with  scant  indulgence  —  anything 
was  thought  good  enough  for  people  whose  destiny,  in  nine 
cases  out  of  ten,  was  the  guillotine.  Yet  I  had  been  worse 
off,  and,  as  I  have  already  mentioned,  I  meant  to  escape. 
Moreover,  I  was  no  longer  to  be  shut  up  with  Coupegorge 
and  the  Angel,  and  I  should  be  able  to  stretch  my  legs  in 
the  open  air.  Prisoners  in  the  infirmary  quarter,  said  Mar- 
teau,  were  required  to  quit  their  cells  every  morning  at  half- 
past  nine,  and  stay  in  the  yard  assigned  to  them  until  even- 
ing ;  also  the  prisoners  on  this  side  were  all  politicians  and 
mostly  gentlemen,  and  their  yard  was  divided  from  the 
ladies'  yard  only  by  a  grating,  through  which  they  could 
talk,  see  each  other,  and  even  flirt  and  make  love. 

At  least,  so  said  Marteau ;  though  I  thought  it  sounded 
too  good  to  be  true.  After  telling  me  these  things,  Mar- 
teau went  for  my  valise,  and  I,  sitting  down  on  one  of  the 
crazy  stools,  communed  with  myself,  thinking,  among  other 
things,  how  much  easier  life  can  be  made,  even  in  a  prison, 


214 


FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 


by  greasing  men's  palms,  wondering  whether  and  where  I 
should  see  Angdlique  again,  and  how  my  father  would  re- 
gard my  long  silence.  It  troubled  me  sorely  that  there  was 
no  possibility  of  letting  him  know  that  I  still  lived  and  did 
not  despair  of  regaining  my  liberty. 

Dear  busy  old  Lancashire  seemed  farther  away  than  ever 
now — so  far  away,  indeed,  that  there  were  moments  when  I 
got  confused  about  my  own  identity,  and  realized  only  with 
an  effort  that  Fritz  Astor,  Anatole  Boucher,  and  Jacques 
Lebrun  were  one  and  the  same  person. 

As  night  was  closing  in  my  musings  were  disturbed  by 
a  great  uproar  —  shouts,  oaths,  the  baying  of  hounds,  the 
trampling  of  feet ;  then  came  a  jingling  of  keys,  a  shoot- 
ing back  of  bolts,  a  rasp  of  rusty  hinges,  the  heavy  door 
swung  back,  and  a  gentleman,  two  warders,  both  half- 
seas-over,  and  a  couple  of  fierce -looking  dogs  entered 
the  cell. 

'Here  is  your  companion,  Lasalle,  name  of  Lebrun," 
growled  one  of  the  turnkeys. 

"I  am  glad  to  make  your  acquaintance,  sir,  though  I 
wish  it  could  have  been  made  under  happier  circumstances. 
I  hope  we  shall  be  good  friends,"  says  the  gentleman,  doff- 
ing his  hat. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  we  shall,"  said  I,  as  we  shook  hands. 

"  Marteau  told  us  about  you,"  muttered  one  of  the  turn- 
keys, significantly. 

"  Yes,  Marteau  has  a  good  heart.  Here  is  something  to 
drink  my  health,"  tipping  them  both  liberally. 

"  Sacred  name  !  you  also  have  a  good  heart.  Can  we 
get  you  anything — a  bottle  of  brandy  ?" 

'•  Thank  you,  not  to-night.  I  have  been  breathing  brandy 
for  the  last  ten  days." 

"Ah,  Coupegorge  and  the  Angel  take  kindly  to  their 
liquor,  don't  they  ?     It  is  not  quality  they  care  for.     Rapp 


WE    MEET   AGAIN  215 

and  I — my  name  is  Botte — go  in  for  both,  don't  we  Rapp  ? 
Good-night,  prisoners." 

"It  is  quite  true,"  observed  Lasalle,  when  the  fellows 
were  gone ;  "  they  do  go  in  for  both,  and  a  good  deal  of  it. 
They  are  drunk  every  night.  You  did  wisely  to  grease  their 
palms.  My  stock  of  grease  is  unfortunately  getting  low, 
but  I  dare  say  it  will  last  until  Monsieur  Sanson" — the  exe- 
cutioner—  "adds  my  head  to  his  collection  of  trophies. 
Might  I,  without  being  deemed  guilty  of  indiscretion,  in- 
quire with  what  offence  you  are  charged  ?" 

Coupegorge  had  said,  "  What  are  you  in  for  ?"  However, 
it  came  to  the  same  thing. 

"  Espousing  the  king's  cause,  and  killing  a  few  gendarmes 
— in  fair  fight,  of  course,"  I  answered.     "And  you?" 

"  Nothing  nearly  so  heroic,  though  the  penalty  is  equally 
death.  I  emigrated,  I  returned  to  see  my  mother,  who  was 
like  to  die,  and  here  I  am." 

"  And  you  think  you  will  be  condemned  ?" 

"  I  have  not  a  doubt  of  it.  The  rascally  sans-culottes  are 
so  full  of  the  king's  trial  that  they  are  rather  overlooking 
their  victims  in  the  Conciergerie.  But  that  won't  last  long. 
We  may  be  called  before  the  Tribunal  to-morrow,  and  that 
means  making  the  acquaintance  of  La  Belle  Guillotine  the 
same  day ;  for  I  cannot  deny  that  I  visited  my  dying 
mother,  nor  you,  I  presume,  that  you  made  mince-meat  of 
those  Blues.  But  what  does  it  signify  ?  Everybody  is  un- 
der sentence  of  death.  If  we  escape  the  guillotine  it  will 
only  be  to  perish  of  some  painful  disease,  or,  worse  still,  die 
of  old  age.  And  really,  you  know,  unless  one  is  young  and 
rich  and  can  enjoy  it  in  Paris,  life  is  scarcely  worth  living." 

The  Marquis  de  Lasalle  was  a  fluent  talker  and  a  pleas- 
ant companion,  yet  I  did  not  think  we  were  likely  to  be- 
come close  friends.  The  disparity  in  our  ages  was  too 
great,  and  we  had  few,  if  any,  ideas  in  common.     Moreover, 


2  lb  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

I  gathered  from  his  conversation  that  he  was  one  of  the 
recreant  nobles,  who,  after  encouraging  the  revolution  until 
it  became  dangerous  to  their  order,  had  left  the  country  and 
joined  its  enemies. 

This,  not  visiting  his  sick  mother,  was  the  offence  for 
which  he  had  to  answer. 

He  was  clearly  not  the  man,  even  though  he  had  been 
younger,  to  participate  in  the  desperate  enterprise  which  I 
contemplated,  and  until  I  knew  him  better  it  would  be  im- 
prudent to  take  him  into  my  confidence. 

At  eight  o'clock  on  the  following  morning  Botte  and 
Rapp  brought  our  breakfast,  for  which,  as  it  was  better 
than  the  ordinary  prison  fare,  we  had  to  pay  at  a  rate  that 
left  the  caterers  a  profit  of  at  least  cent,  per  cent.  But,  as 
the  marquis  remarked,  when  you  are  in  the  ante-chamber  of 
death  the  cost  of  living  becomes  a  secondary  consideration. 

Shortly  after  nine  o'clock  we  were  turned  out  of  our  cell 
and  ordered  to  betake  ourselves  to  the  man's  yard.  It  was 
a  narrow,  gloomy  enclosure,  bounded  by  great  walls  which 
shut  out  the  sun  ;  but  we  could  move  about  and  meet  our 
fellow-prisoners,  to  most  of  whom  Lasalle  introduced  me. 
All  seemed  to  be  in  high  spirits — laughing,  joking,  and  tell- 
ing piquant  stories  as  unconcernedly  as  if  they  had  been 
sipping  coffee  on  the  boulevards,  or  strolling  in  the  gardens 
of  Versailles. 

Yet  any  one  of  them  might  be  "called  "on  the  morrow, 
since  though  there  was  just  then  a  lull  in  the  activity  of 
the  Revolutionary  Tribunal,  there  was  seldom  a  day  on 
which  it  did  not  send  at  least  one  of  the  inmates  of  the 
Con<  iergerie  to  the  guillotine. 

When  a  prisoner  failed  to  appear  in  the  yard  at  the  ac- 
customed hour,  none  of  his  former  associates  were  so 
ignorant  a-  not  to  know  that  he  would  never  return,  or  so 
ill-bred  as  to  mention  his  name. 


WE    MEET    AGAIN  217 

At  noon  the  ladies  appeared  in  great  force,  many  of 
them  in  rich  attire,  none  ill-dressed,  and  we  dined  practi- 
cally in  their  company,  our  tables  and  theirs  being  placed 
close  to  the  railing  that  separated  the  two  yards,  and  the 
bars  were  so  wide  apart  that  a  thin  man  might  almost  have 
slipped  between  them. 

Never  was  I  at  a  merrier  party.  We  toasted  each  other 
— those  of  us  who  were  rich,  in  wine  ;  those  who  were  poor, 
in  water — bantered  each  other,  and  exchanged  more  or  less 
witty  repartees.  The  conversation  was  brilliant — all  seemed 
to  have  cast  care  to  the  winds,  as  though  they  had  said  to 
themselves  :  "  Let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we  die." 

After  dinner  most  of  the  men  went  up  to  the  railing,  and 
either  stood  or  paced  to  and  fro,  talking  between  whiles  to 
the  ladies  on  the  other  side. 

Not,  as  yet,  knowing  any  of  these  fair  prisoners,  I  was 
looking  curiously  on,  when  I  spied  among  the  throng  an  old 
lady  leaning  on  the  arm  of  a  young  girl. 

"  Poor  old  lady !  What  is  her  crime,  I  wonder  ?"  As 
this  thought  passed  through  my  mind,  she  and  her  com- 
panion turned  their  faces  towards  me. 

Merciful  Heaven  !  My  brain  reels,  I  rush  up  to  the 
bars,  and,  in  my  excitement,  exclaim,  loud  enough  to  be 
heard,  "  Mademoiselle  de  la  Tour,  Madame  la  Marquise  !" 

Ange'lique  stops  and  turns  pale,  looking  as  startled  as 
though  she  beheld  a  ghost.  Then,  recovering  herself,  she 
leads  the  marchioness  to  where  I  stand. 

"  You  here,  Monsieur — " 

u  Lebrun,  Madame  la  Marquise,"  I  put  in. 

"  Of  Course,  Monsieur  Lebrun.  I  really  think  my  memory 
begins  to  fail  me.  You  here  !  Yet  why  should  I  be  sur- 
prised ?  If  you  want  to  meet  your  friends  come  to  the 
Conciergerie.  I  have  met  many  already,  some  of  whom  I 
shall  never  meet  again — here." 


2l8  1  OR    HI  INOR    AND    LIFE 

"  I  pray  Heaven,  madame,  you  are  not  here  because  of 
your  kindness  to  me.     If  so,  I  shall  never — " 

"  No  ;  they  arrested  me  because  I  sent  money  to  my  son, 
who  is  an  emigrant.  Holding  communication  with  an  emi- 
grant is  a  capital  crime  under  the  republic.  But  they  will 
have  to  be  quick,  or  I  shall  anticipate  the  executioner.  It 
does  not  take  much  to  kill  an  old  woman  of  eighty-four, 
and  this  prison  life  will  soon  make  an  end  of  me,  I  think. 
But  for  this  dear  girl,  who  comes  every  day  and  cheers  me 
with  her  company,  and  brings  me  little  comforts,  I  should 
have  been  dead  long  ago.  Oh,  she  has  a  rare  courage 
to  traverse  the  streets  of  Paris  unattended  at  a  time  like 
this." 

Thank  God  !     Ange'lique  was  not  a  prisoner,  then. 

"  We  heard  you  had  been  desperately  wounded,  and 
feared  you  were  dead,"  she  said,  regarding  me  sadly  with 
her  beautiful  eyes.  "  We  little  thought,  when  you  set  out 
on  that  ill-omened  journey,  that  we  three  should  meet  again 
in  a  prison.  Poor  marchioness!  Surely  they  won't  have 
the  heart  to  condemn  her.  Put  I  don't  know — they  have 
guillotined  ladies  nearly  as  old.  You  see  how  she  has 
aged;  it  is  only  occasionally,  and  on  fine  (.lays,  that  she  can 
come  into  the  yard  for  an  airing." 

•■  And  your  uncle,  what  of  him  ?''  I  asked. 

"  He  is  in  hiding.  You  know  how  clever  he  is.  He  was 
warned  in  time,  and  slipped  through  their  fingers.  'U'as  it 
you  who  sent  off  the  pigeon  with  the  danger  signal?" 

"  I  ordered  it  to  be  sent  off." 

"I  thought  it  was  your  doing.  And  you  were  badly 
wounded  ?" 

"  Ves;  but  I  am  all  right  now." 

'•  Have  you  been  before  the  Tribunal?" 

"  Xot  yet.  I  have  been  interrogated  once,  and  am  to  be 
in." 


WE   MEET   AGAIN  219 

"And  what  do  you  think  will  be  the  result — I  mean, 
have  you  any  hope — " 

"  Of  acquittal  ?  Not  the  least.  My  offence  is  too  fla- 
grant. But  I  have  some  hope  of  escaping  —  with  your 
help." 

"  My  help  !     Oh,  if  I  could—     But  how  ?" 

"As  yet  I  am  unable  to  say.  I  have  not  hit  upon  a 
feasible  plan.  But  I  shall,  if  they  only  give  me  a  few  days' 
respite ;  and  as  they  have  not  done  with  their  interrogations, 
I  think  they  will.  You  come  to  the  Conciergerie  every 
day,  don't  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  to  see  Madame  la  Marquise ;  but  I  come  into  the 
yard  only  when  she  can  come,  and  that  is  not  often." 

"  But  you  will  come  here  every  day,  mademoiselle.  I 
know  it  is  a  great  deal  to  ask,  and  not  quite  the  right  thing 
for  you  to  do — or  would  not  be  in  ordinary  circumstances. 
But  these  are  extraordinary  times,  and  this  is  a  case  of  life 
and  death.  And  the  mere  sight  of  your  face  does  me  good 
— gives  me  hope  and  courage.     It  is  like  sunshine — " 

"  Oh,  monsieur  !" 

"  Yes,  it  is  like  sunshine.  And  though  I  hope  they  will 
give  me  a  few  days,  there  is  no  telling,  as  you  said  just  now 
about  the  marchioness.     Any  morning,  even  to-morrow — " 

Angelique  turned  pale. 

"  Oh  yes,  I  will  come,"  she  murmured. 

Here  the  marchioness,  who  had  been  sitting  on  a  bench 
which,  though  near,  was  out  of  earshot,  rose  from  her  seat 
and  tottered  to  the  railing. 

"  It  is  time  for  us  to  go ;  I  am  very  tired.  Au  revoir, 
monsieur,"  she  said,  giving  me  her  hand,  which  I  reverently 
kissed. 

Then  Mademoiselle  de  la  Tour  gave  me  her  hand. 

"  Angelique  has  been  more  to  me  than  a  daughter.  She 
is  the  best  girl  in  the  world,"  added  Madame  la  Marquise. 


220  FOR    HONOR    AXD    LIFE 

The  thought  that  I  might  never  see  her  again  flashed 
through  my  mind  and  unsealed  my  lips. 

"It  is  true,  and  I  love  her  with  all  my  heart !"  I  ex- 
claimed, in  a  passionate  whisper,  heard  only  by  Angelique. 

Angelique's  hand  trembled,  but  it  remained  for  a  few 
delicious  seconds  in  mine.  When  I  looked  in  her  eyes  I 
saw  that  I  had  won  her  heart,  and  though  I  was  in  the 
antechamber  of  death,  never  in  my  life  had  I  felt  so  happy. 


CHAPTER   XXXI 
LIGHT 

As  yet,  albeit  I  had  suggested  that  Angelique  might  help 
me  to  escape,  I  was  groping  in  the  dark,  and  saw  no  way 
out.  The  idea  I  had  first  conceived  of  cutting  through  the 
bars  of  my  cell  window,  letting  myself  clown,  and  climbing 
over  the  outer  wall,  was  obviously  impracticable,  even 
though  I  should  make  or  otherwise  obtain  a  rope.  I  had 
discovered  that  the  window  overlooked  the  yard,  and  that 
the  yard  was  bounded  by  walls  too  lofty  to  scale  without  a 
forty-foot  ladder,  to  say  nothing  of  the  sentries  who  were 
always  on  guard  below. 

The  alternative  to  scaling  the  walls,  after  I  got  into  the 
yard,  was  going  out  by  the  way  I  had  come  in  ;  but  as  this 
plan  involved  breaking  through,  or  opening  without  keys, 
half  a  dozen  iron-bound  doors,  at  any  of  which  I  might  en- 
counter a  brace  of  warders,  and  running  the  gantlet  of  the 
people  in  the  vestibule  and  the  Cerberus  at  the  wicket,  it 
was  even  more  impossible  than  the  other. 

The  idea  of  bribing  one  of  the  turnkeys  was  also  con- 
ceived, only  to  be  dismissed.  The  man  who  connived  at  my 
escape  would  do  so  at  the  peril  of  his  life,  and  I  doubted 
whether  I  had  enough  money  to  make  it  worth  a  man's 
while.  Moreover,  if  the  turnkey  to  whom  I  made  the  pro- 
posal were  honest,  he  would  denounce  me;  while  if  he  were 
dishonest,  he  might  take  my  money  and  obtain  credit  and 
promotion  by  betraying  me. 

Too  risky  altogether,  even  had  I  the  wherewithal. 

Though  I  thought  and  thought  till  my  head  went  round, 


jjj  FOR    HONOR    AND    LITE     • 

and  cudgelled  my  brains  in  the  watches  of  the  night,  I 
found  no  solution  of  the  difficulty,  and  rose  in  the  morning 
gloomy,  despondent,  and  almost  despairing. 

Even  the  thought  that  I  had  won  Angelique's  heart  failed 
to  revive  my  drooping  spirits,  since  if  I  were  guillotined  she 
might  marry  somebody  else,  and  the  possibility  did  not 
please  me. 

To  make  matters  worse,  Angd-lique  did  not  keep  her 
tryst.  After  dinner  I  was  hanging  about  the  barrier,  watch- 
ing for  her,  when  a  young  woman  with  a  pale  face  and 
black  eyes  beckoned  to  me — a  call  which  I  promptly  an- 
swered. 

■•  You  arc  Monsieur  Lebrun  ?*'  she  asked. 

"That  is  my  name,  madame.  What  can  I  have  the  pleas- 
ure of  doing  for  you  ?'' 

"  You  are  expecting  Mademoiselle  de  la  Tour." 

••  Yes,  1  am  hoping  to  see  her." 

"  And  I  have  the  advantage  of  knowing  her.  She  was 
here  this  morning — I  mean  in  our  room,  Madame  de  Malar- 
tie's  and  mine — but  only  for  a  few  minutes,  and  desired  me 
to  tell  you  that,  having  some  important  business  to  attend 
to,  she  could  not  see  you  to-day,  but  hopes  to  do  so  to- 
morrow." 

I  thanked  the  lady  for  her  information,  and  then,  sick 
with  disappointment,  turned  away  and  joined  a  group  of 
Hers  who,  being  unacquainted  over  the  border,  were 
whiling  away  the  time  in  conversation,  which,  judging  by 
the    1  it    evoked,  seemed  to   be   amusing.     To  hear 

them  and  look  at  them  you  would  have  thought  they  had 
I  are  in  the  world. 

'I  he  talk  was  about  mesmerism,  which  a  little  time  before 
had  been  greatly  in  vogue.  Opinions  were  divided,  some 
.  ed  in  it,  some  did  not,  the  unbelievei  s  being  apparent- 
ly in  the  majority.     After  the  discussion  had  gone  on  for  a 


LIGHT 


223 


while,  one  of  the  sceptics,  who  seemed  to  be  somewhat  of  a 
wag,  said  that  he  knew  of  but  one  case  of  mesmerism  in 
which  there  was  neither  deception  nor  illusion,  and  the  op- 
erator's will  prevailed  over  that  of  his  victim.  The  case 
occurred  in  Italy,  and  he  could  vouch  for  its  accuracy. 

One  day  at  high  noon  a  banker,  living  in  a  provincial 
town,  was  called  to  his  door  by  a  stranger,  who  said  he  had 
an  important  and  strictly  private  communication  to  make. 
The  banker,  scenting  business,  responded  to  the  sum- 
mons, whereupon  the  stranger,  fixing  him  with  his  eye  and 
slightly  opening  his  cloak,  bade  him  put  on  his  hat  and  step 
outside. 

The  banker  obeyed,  the  stranger  took  his  arm,  and  the  two 
walked  through  the  town,  the  banker,  at  his  companion's 
bidding,  greeting  all  and  sundry  whom  they  met. 

They  proceeded  for  several  miles  arm  in  arm,  and  almost 
cheek  by  jowl,  until  they  came  to  a  wood,  where  they  found 
several  gentlemen  whose  many  weapons  and  devil-may-care 
air  suggested  grave  doubts  as  to  the  honesty  of  their  call- 
ing. Nevertheless,  they  greeted  the  banker  courteously  and 
his  conductor  with  profound  respect.  After  this  personage 
had  refreshed  himself  with  a  deep  draught  of  wine,  he  called 
for  pen,  ink,  and  paper,  and  requested  the  banker  to  sit  down 
and  write  an  order  on  his  bank  for  the  payment  of  ten 
thousand  lira  to  the  bearer. 

The  mesmerist  then  handed  the  paper  to  one  of  the 
gentlemen  in  question,  and  bade  him  go  with  all  speed  to 
the  town,  cash  the  order,  and  bring  back  the  money. 

"  When  it  comes,"  he  said,  turning  to  the  banker,  and 
again  fixing  him  with  his  eye,  "  you  may  go.  Meanwhile, 
let  us  amuse  ourselves  with  a  game  of  cards." 

The  play  went  on,  to  the  unfortunate  banker's  great  dis- 
advantage, until  the  messenger  returned  with  the  ten  thou- 
sand lira. 


JJ4  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

When  the  bandit  had  counted  the  cash  and  found  it 
right,  he  courteously  dismissed  his  reluctant  guest,  and  the 
latter  returned  to  his  home,  a  sadder  and  a  wiser  man. 

The  listeners  laughed  heartily,  and  said  it  was  a  capital 
story — all  except  one  gentleman,  who  looked  very  serious 
and  wanted  to  know  how  it  was  done. 

"  That,"  said  the  narrator,  "  I  shall  leave  you  to  guess." 

Whereupon  more  laughter,  for  everybody  else  had  divined 
the  secret  of  the  mesmerist's  power.  I  thought  the  tale  of 
the  banker  and  the  bandit  the  best  I  had  ever  heard.  It 
was  the  light  I  had  been  seeking — the  light  which  should 
show  me  out  of  the  Conciergerie,  since,  given  certain  con- 
ditions not  impossible  of  attainment,  I  felt  sure  that  as  the 
bandit  had  mesmerized  the  banker  with  his  dagger,  so  I 
could  mesmerize  a  warder  with  my  amputating  knife,  and 
make  him  my  guide  to  liberty. 

During  the  rest  of  the  day  and  far  into  the  night  I  was 
thinking  out  my  scheme,  nor  did  I  sleep  until  it  was  com- 
plete in  every  detail.  I  rose  in  the  morning  full  of  hope  and 
courage,  and  anxiouly  awaited  Ang  lique's  coming,  for  I 
wanted  to  tell  her  the  good  news,  and  her  co-operation  was 
essential  to  the  success  of  my  scheme. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  she  appeared  at  the  railing,  alone. 

"  The  marchioness  is  very  ill  to-day  or  I  should  have  come 
sooner,"  she  said,  as  we  shook  hands. 

"Why  did  you  not  keep  your  tryst  yesterday?"  I  asked, 
reproachfully. 

"  for  your  sake,  monsieur — " 

"Fritz,  not  monsieur — if  you  love  me,  Angelique." 

"  it  was  for  your  sake,  Fritz,"  she  said,  lowering  her  eyes, 

but  leaving  her  hand  in  mine,  "that  I  did  not  come  yes- 

ty.     I   went  to  see  Uncle  Claude,  for  he  has   a  wise 

.  except  where  the  king  is  concerned,  and   though  in 

hiding,  has  still  some  influence  in  high  quarters.     He  was 


LIGHT  225 

much  distressed  when  he  heard  of  your  great  peril,  and 
will  do  whatever  he  can.  But  unless  you  can  escape,  he 
fears — " 

"  The  worst.  So  do  I.  Nay,  I  am  sure  of  it.  But  I  have 
thought  of  a  plan,  Angelique — a  plan  of  promise  ;  and  if  you 
will  give  me  your  help — " 

"  If  I  will !  Oh,  Fritz,"  raising  her  eyes  lovingly  and 
pathetically  to  mine,  "  only  tell  me,  and  you  shall  see." 

"  You  must  first  know,  my  dear  Angelique,  that  the  suc- 
cess of  my  plan  is  contingent  on  certain  conditions,  one 
being  a  full  week's  further  respite — " 

"  That's  arranged  already.  My  uncle  gave  me  a  letter  to 
Monsieur  Dufour,  which  frightened  him  dreadfully — " 

"To  Dufour?" 

"  Yes.  I  am  living  at  his  house.  He  and  his  father 
were  under  obligations  to  the  marchioness — she  had  been 
a  valued  customer  of  theirs  for  many  years  ;  and  when  she 
was  arrested  and  seals  were  put  on  the  doors,  and  I  had  no- 
where to  go,  Madame  Dufour  invited  me  to  become  her 
guest.  Well,  the  letter  had  a  great  effect.  Monsieur  Dufour 
said  he  would  endeavor  to  delay  your  appearance  before  the 
Tribunal  as  long  as  possible — as  he  hoped,  for  several  weeks. 
More  than  this  he  could  not  do,  even  though  you  were  his 
own  brother." 

I  guessed  what  De  Lancyhad  written.  He  had  intimated 
to  Dufour  that  if  I  were  guillotined  he  would  be  denounced 
for  having  cashed  the  draft  on  my  father,  which  seemed  a 
base  return  for  the  money-changer's  kindness  ;  but  necessity 
has  no  law,  and  I  knew  that  the  threat  would  never  be  exe- 
cuted, even  though  I  should  be. 

"  You  were  to  be  interrogated  again  to-morrow,"  added 
Ange'lique  ;  "  but  Monsieur  Dufour  has  seen  Citizen  Lemaire, 
the  judge  who  has  your  case  in  hand,  and  he  will  not  send 
for  you  again  for  five  or  six  days." 
15 


2  26  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

"  So  far  good,  very  good,  my  darling.  Didn't  I  say  you 
could  help  me  ?" 

••  ( >h,  but  this  is  not  enough.  It  merely  puts  off  the  fatal 
day.  What  else  can  I  do,  and  what  are  the  other  conditions 
you  spoke  of  ?" 

"  One  is  having  a  cell  to  myself  for  a  few  nights ;  that, 
I  think,  can  be  managed  by  a  little  judicious  bribery. 
Another  is  the  possession  of  three  or  four  yards  of  cord, 
about  the  thickness  of  your  little  linger,  and  a  phial  of 
laudanum,  which  you  can  bring  to-morrow  or  the  next 
day." 

"  Laudanum  !" 

"  Don't  be  alarmed.  I  neither  contemplate  suicide  nor 
murder.  Then  I  must  have  some  place  to  go  to  when  I  get 
out.     Do  you  think  I  could  join  your  uncle  ?" 

••  I  think  you  had  better  not.  He  may  have  to  change 
his  quarters  any  moment.  I  will  speak  to  Madame  Du- 
four.  You  once  rendered  her  a  service  which  she  is 
anxious  to  repay,  and  she  takes  great  interest  in  you. 
Between  us  we  will  devise  something.  Trust  to  a  woman's 
wit.-' 

"With  all  my  heart;  especially  your  wit.  my  Ange- 
lique." 

And  then  we  had  some  further  talk  which  need  not  be 
repeated  here.  We  talked  at  our  ease,  for  my  fellow- 
captives  were  far  too  courteous  and  discreet  to  interfere 
with,  or  even  seem  to  observe,  a  lady  and  gentleman  en 
titr-a-t('tt\  and  when  the  time  for  parting  arrived,  I  profited 
by  the  darkness  of  the  yard  and  the  deepening  twilight  to 
bid  the  dear  girl  a  tender  farewell. 

I  hoped  to  see  her  again  on  the  morrow;  but  in  her  stead 
<  ame  Mine.  1  )ufour,  to  my  great  discontent:  yet,  when  the 
lady  explained  the  reason  of  A.nge'lique's  absence,  I  found 
that  1  had  no  cause  for  complaint,  and  was  forced  to  admit 


LIGHT  227 

that  I  had  not  thought  of  everything,  and  that  woman's  wit 
was  better  than  mine. 

"  As  you  doubtless  know,"  said  Mine.  Dufour,  "  there  are 
here,  as  in  every  prison  in  Paris,  spies  in  the  employ  of 
the  police,  or  traitors  who,  in  order  to  ingratiate  themselves 
with  the  authorities,  betray  their  fellow-prisoners,  and  re- 
port whatever  they  may  deem  strange  or  suspicious.  Now, 
if  Mademoiselle  de  la  Tour  pays  you  a  visit  every  day,  and 
you  should,  as  I  hope  you  will,  escape,  they  might  suspect 
her  of  connivance.  That  would  compromise  us  all,  for  she 
is  living  with  us,  and  is  admitted  to  the  Conciergerie  as  a 
favor  to  my  husband.  Moreover,  you  will  have  to  come  to 
our  house,  which  is  another  reason  why  we  must  do  nothing 
to  excite  suspicion." 

"  You  are  quite  right,  madame,  and  I  am  vastly  obliged 
to  you." 

"  Don't  mention  it,  pray.  I  owe  you  a  debt,  remember, 
and  I  would  do  much  more  for  our  dear  Ange'lique  "  (smiling) ; 
"  she  will  see  you  to-morrow  for  a  few  minutes  and  bring  you 
what  you  asked  for,  and  then  you  will  perhaps  be  able  to 
tell  her  when  we  may  expect  you.  Meanwhile,  you  will  do 
well  to  pay  some  attention  to  these  other  ladies  (of  course 
as  a  blind),  even  to  the  extent  of  flirting  with  them.  I  don't 
think  Angelique  will  mind.  And  now,  monsieur,  I  think  I 
had  better  go.  A  man  with  the  furtive  eyes  that  betray 
the  mouton  "  (prison  spy)  "  is  prowling  about.    Au  revoir" 

When  Mme.  Dufour  was  gone  I  acted  straightway  on 
her  advice,  and  talked  and  joked  with  one  of  the  fair  prison- 
ers, to  whom  Lasalle  had  introduced  me,  until  we  were  dis- 
missed to  our  cells  —  driven  rather,  the  warders  being  al- 
ways rude  and  often  drunk. 

I  followed  Lasalle  up  the  steps  that  led  to  our  room. 
Botte  followed  me. 

"A  word  with  you,  Lebrun,"  he  whispered,  as  we  reached 


2  2S  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

the  first  landing.  "You  said  something  to  Marteau  about 
a  cell  to  yourself.  Well,  I  think  you  may  have  exclusive 
possession  of  this  after  to-morrow — if  we  can  come  to 
terms." 

•How?     What—" 

"  You  will  know  in  the  morning."  Then,  raising  his  voice, 
he  added,  in  his  usual  rough  fashion  :  "  Sacred  name  !  go 
quickly,  will  you?  I  am  in  a  hurry,  if  you  are  not.  Now. 
then,  in  with  you,  Lasalle." 

The  heavy  door  banged  behind  us,  the  keys  were  turned, 
the  bolts  shot  home,  and  ourselves  shut  up  once  more. 

Lasalle  threw  himself  on  his  bed. 

"  I  am  getting  tired  of  this,  Lebrun,"  he  said,  wearily.  "  If 
the  sans-culottes  don't  let  me  out  soon,  or  make  an  end  of 
me,  I  shall  make  an  end  of  myself.  At  the  best,  life  is  a 
mistake  when  you  are  past  forty  and  have  nothing  to  look 
forward  to  but  death  and  poverty,  and  I  don't  care  how  soon 
I  am  out  of  it." 

Being  unprepared  with  a  suitable  answer,  I  kept  silence. 
If  I  had  spoken  my  thoughts  I  should  have  said  that  the 
Count  de  Lasalle  was  not  likely  to  be  much  longer  oppressed 
with  the  life  which  he  found  so  burdensome. 


CHAPTER    XXXII 
A    MESMERIZED    WARDER 

Botte's  hinted  forecast  was  not  long  in  coming  to  pass. 

As  Lasalle  and  myself  were  at  breakfast  on  the  next  morn- 
ing we  were  startled  by  the  regular  tramp  of  heavy  feet  and 
the  rattle  of  accoutrements  in  the  corridors  leading  to  our 
cell. 

We  both  stood  up,  the  count  cool  and  self-possessed,  my- 
self in  some  trepidation,  for  the  thought  had  crossed  my 
mind  that  Botte  might  have  played  me  a  malicious  trick,  or 
made  a  mistake  as  to  the  man. 

The  door  opened,  and  Botte  and  Rapp  appeared  at  the 
threshold.  Behind  them  were  three  gendarmes  with  fixed 
bayonets. 

"  Which  is  it  ?"  asked  the  count. 

"You,  Lasalle,"  answered  Rapp. 

Save  for  a  slight  yet  almost  imperceptible  twitching  of 
the  upper  lip,  the  count  showed  no  emotion  whatever. 

"  I  am  ready,"  he  said,  cheerfully.     Then  to  me  : 

"  Farewell,  my  dear  sir.  Our  acquaintance,  albeit  not 
long,  has  at  least  been  pleasant,  and  will  dwell  in  my  mem- 
ory— as  long  as  I  live." 

"  Farewell ;  I  am  very  sorry." 

More  I  could  not  say,  being  deeply  moved,  for  it  is  no 
light  thing  to  see  a  brave  man  going  to  his  death  ;  and  though 
I  had  not  taken  Lasalle  to  my  heart,  I  admired  his  courage 
and  deplored  his  fate. 

After  shaking  hands  with  me  and  the  two  turnkeys,  the 
handcuffs  were  put  on,  and  the  gendarmes  led  the  doomed 


■3° 


FOR    HOXOR    AND    LIFE 


man  to  the  Tribunal,  whence,  after  being  tried  and  convicted, 
he  was  carried  straightway  to  Revolution  Place  and  there 
beheaded. 

"You  may  as  well  go  into  the  yard  now;  it  will  save 
me  the  trouble  of  coming  again,"  observed  Botte,  who  had 
not  gone  with  the  others.  "You  are  alone  now,  and  may 
remain  so  —  for  a  while  —  if,  as  I  said,  we  can  come  to 
terms." 

"  I  don't  think  I  care  much  about  being  alone,"  quoth  I, 
with  affected  indifference.  "  Lasalle  was  an  agreeable  com- 
panion." 

"But  the  next  might  be  disagreeable.  Besides,  we  could 
shove  three  or  four  in." 

"  Into  this  den  ?" 

"  A  den,  do  you  call  it  ?  Why,  it  is  one  of  the  best  rooms 
in  the  prison." 

"  How  much  ?" 

"Twenty  francs  a  day.     Half  for  me,  half  for  Rapp." 

"That  won't  do  at  all,  Citizen  Botte.  You  want  to  ruin 
me.  No,  thank  you.  Everything  considered,  I  think  I  would 
rather  not  be  alone." 

"  Fifteen,  then  ?" 

"  No." 

"Ten."' 

"  I'll  think  about  it." 

"You  won't  have  the  chance.  It  must  be  either  yes  or 
no,  and  now.  You  need  not  hesitate  so  much.  It  may  not 
be  for  Ion 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

'•  We  are  to  have  an  official  visit  this  morning.  A  mem- 
ber of  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety  and  a  deputy,  who  is 
also  a  municipal,  are  going  to  look  us  up.  and  if  they  think 
the  prisoners  are  getting  too  thick  on  the  ground — " 

■•  I  understand  ;  they  may  make  a  clearance.     Very  well ; 


A    MESMERIZED    WARDER  23  I 

I  agree  —  ten  francs  between  you  and  Rapp.  Here's  your 
first  day's  pay  ;  and  you  can  get  me  a  bottle  of  cognac." 

"  Good  !     May  I  taste  ?" 

"  By  all  means  ;  first  quality,  mind." 

"  Good  again.  Allans  !  It  is  time  for  you  to  be  in  the 
yard." 

Most  of  my  fellow-captives  had  heard  of  the  approaching 
visit,  to  which,  by  reason  of  the  monotony  and  inactivity  of 
their  lives,  they  attached,  as  I  thought,  undue  importance; 
and  Botte,  I  felt  sure,  had  exaggerated,  or  more  probably 
lied,  to  serve  his  own  ends. 

Be  that  as  it  might,  Dufour  having  arranged  for  the  post- 
ponement of  my  examination,  I  could  look  forward  to  the 
visit  without  misgiving. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  when  the  visitors  arrived  I  was 
the  only  unconcerned  individual  in  the  yard,  and  instead  of 
avoiding  them  like  some  of  the  other  prisoners,  I  kept  my 
ground  and  refused  to  budge. 

As  the  inspectors  were  accompanied  by  the  governor  and 
surrounded  by  several  minor  officials,  it  was  not  easy  to  tell 
which  was  which. 

"  Whom  have  we  here  ?"  I  heard  one  of  them  say  in  a 
voice  which  seemed  familiar  to  me;  and  turning  towards  the 
speaker,  I  found  myself  face  to  face  with  Deputy  Serin. 

The  recognition  was  mutual. 

"  I  think  we  have  met  before,"  said  he,  in  his  harsh,  grat- 
ing voice.  "You  are  the  young  man  from  Alsace,  named 
Boucher,  who  made  an  appointment  with  me  at  the  Hotel  de 
Ville,  and  did  not  keep  it.    A  ci-devant"  (noble)  "  I  suppose  ?" 

The  governor  whispered  something  in  his  ear. 

"  So  you  are  the  soi-disant  Lebrun,  one  of  the  royalist 
conspirators  who  tried  to  carry  off  Capet,  and  resisted  the 
gendarmes  at  Flins.  That  is  months  ago,  and  you  are  alive 
yet !" 


23-  FOR    HOXOR   AND    LIFE 

"He  was  so  badly  wounded  that  he  could  not  be  re- 
moved, Citizen  Deputy,  and  has  been  here  only  three 
weeks,"  put  in  the  governor. 

'■  Three  weeks  too  long.  I  must  see  to  this.  I  shall 
speak  to  FouquierTinville" — public  prosecutor  of  the  Revo- 
lutionary Tribunal — "  about  him  at  once." 

"  His  interrogation  is  not  yet  completed,  Citizen  Deputy." 

"  Interrogation  !  What  is  the  good  of  interrogating  a 
fellow  like  him  ?  He  is  a  born  liar;  he  will  lie  to  the  judge 
as  he  lied  to  me." 

This  was  more  than  flesh  and  blood  could  bear. 

"  If  I  were  not  a  prisoner  and  you  were  less  well  guarded 
I  would  wring  your  neck,  Citizen  Deputy !"  I  exclaimed, 
wrathfully  and  recklessly. 

"  Oh,  you  would  wring  my  neck,  would  you  ?  Well,  I 
promise  you  that  by  this  time  to-morrow  you  will  have  no 
neck  to  wring.  I  promise,  and  Serin  always  keeps  his 
word,  even  to  lying  and  malignant  aristocrats  like  yourself. 
Wring  my  neck,  would  you  ?  Let  us  pass  on,  Citizen  Gov- 
ernor." 

When  the  visitors  and  their  suite  were  gone,  my  fellow- 
prisoners  crowded  round  me,  some  to  congratulate,  others 
to  condole. 

"  It  was  a  gross  insult ;  you  did  well  to  resent  it.  I  fe- 
licitate you  on  your  courage,"  said  one. 

"  You  will  have  to  go  before  the  Tribunal  to-morrow  in- 
stead of  next  week  or  next  month,"  said  another,  "  that  is 
all.  And  I  dare  say  two  or  three  of  us  will  have  to  bear 
you  company  ;  there  is  always  an  increase  of  executions 
after  an  inspection." 

This  by  way  of  consolation  ! 

My  answers  were  brief,  for  I  felt  by  no  means  proud  of 
my  exploit.  I  had  lost  my  temper  and  wofully  worsened 
my  pri-sp. 


A    MESMERIZED   WARDER  233 

Only  one  night  between  me  and  death  !  I  had  intended 
to  win  the  confidence  and  allay  the  possible  suspicions  of 
the  two  warders  by  giving  them  two  carouses  in  my  cell  be- 
fore attempting  the  enterprise  which  was  to  decide  my  fate. 
But  now  I  should  have  to  stake  everything  on  a  single 
throw  of  the  dice. 

It  was  that  night  or  never  ;  and  my  plans  were  fortunately 
so  far  matured  that  if  Botte  and  Rapp  took  the  bait  I  was 
going  to  offer  them,  and  Angelique  kept  her  tryst,  the  odds, 
as  I  reckoned,  were  still  in  my  favor,  albeit  less  than  they 
had  been. 

Angelique  did  keep  her  tryst,  purposely  and  prudently 
coming  late,  in  order  that  she  might  pass  me  the  cord  and 
the  phial  unobserved,  which  she  did  very  deftly,  and  I  put 
them  away  in  my  pocket.  As  spies  might  be  watching  us, 
we  wasted  no  time  in  love  -  making.  I  told  her  at  once 
that  something  had  happened  which  rendered  delay  danger- 
ous ;  that  I  purposed,  with  God's  help,  to  make  my  escape 
that  night,  and  inquired  how  I  should  obtain  admission  at 
M.  Dufour's  house. 

"  You  know  where  it  is  ?" 

"  In  the  Rue  St.  Denis." 

"  Yes,  but  you  must  go  round  to  the  back  ;  and  for  your 
better  guidance  we  shall  leave  a  light  behind  a  red  curtain 
in  the  attic  window,  the  highest  of  all.  The  door  will  be 
left  unbarred  and  unlocked.  You  must  open  it  noiselessly, 
shut  and  fasten  it ;  then  creep  softly  up-stairs  to  the  attic, 
which  you  will  recognize  by  the  light ;  and  as  the  door  will 
be  left  ajar,  you  can  make  no  mistake.  Go  in  and  stay  un- 
til somebody  comes  ;  but  don't  enter  the  house  before  mid- 
night. Deputy  Serin  comes  to  the  Dufours  two  or  three 
times  a  week  and  often  stays  till  past  eleven." 

"  Deputy  Serin  !  Oh,  I  remember  him.  He  called  when 
I  was  there,  and  the  Dufours  hurried  me  away." 


2J4  F0R    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

••  He  is  a  wretch.     I  hate  him." 

-  Has  he  dared—" 

"  Don't  ask  me,  Fritz." 

I  had  no  need  to  ask ;  Angelique  had  said  enough.  I 
knew  the  deputy  had  been  paying  her  odious  attentions,  and 
longed  more  than  ever  for  an  opportunity  of  wringing  his 
neck. 

And  then  my  love  and  I  parted — until  the  morrow,  as  we 
told  each  other,  or  forever,  as  I  said  to  myself;  but  of  the 
latter  possibility  I  was  careful  not  to  speak. 

Everything  now  depended  on  the  two  turnkeys,  as,  unless 
I  could  outwit  and  cajole  them  and  make  them  my  tools, 
my  scheming  was  in  vain.  In  one  sense  Serin's  threat 
might  be  an  advantage  ;  it  would  disarm  their  suspicions 
and  serve  as  an  excuse  for  the  invitation  I  was  about  to 
give  them. 

Botte  accompanied  me  to  my  cell,  as  usual. 

■•  You  will  find  the  bottle  of  cognac  on  your  table,"  said 
he.     "  I  profited  by  your  permission  to  taste  it." 

"  And  found  it  good  ?" 

"  Rather." 

"  Would  you  like  another  taste  ?" 

"Wouldn't  I,  just !" 

••  You  shall  have  more  than  a  taste ;  but  not  now.  You 
heard  what  the  Citizen  Deputy  said?" 

••  Yes;  you  put  your  foot  in  it  there,  Lebrun.  And  very 
sorry  I  am  ;  it  will  be  money  out  of  our  pockets — mine  and 
Rapp's." 

"  You  think  I  shall  be  called  to-morrow,  then  ?" 

"Su 

'•  Well,  then,  let  us  make  a  night  of  it.    It  will  be  my  last, 

and  I  don't  like  the  idea  of  being  all  alone.    You  and  Rap]) 

here   after  you  have  done  your  work  and   had  your 

supper.     Bring  another  bottle  of  brandy  and  three  or  four 


A    MESMERIZED    WARDER  235 

bottles  of  burgundy,  some  glasses,  cards,  and  dice — just 
to  pass  the  time  and  kill  care." 

"  It  is  against  regulations,  Lebrun — against  regulations  ; 
and  if  we  got  found  out  we  should  get  the  sack.  To  you 
it  would  make  no  difference.  They  cannot  do  worse  to  a 
man  than  make  him  shorter  by  a  head,  and  yours  is  as 
good  as  off  already.  However,  as  this  is  your  last  night 
on  earth,  and  you  have  treated  us  so  liberally,  and  that 
brandy  is  so  toothsome,  we  will  risk  it  for  this  time  only. 
I  answer  for  Rapp.  Expect  us  in  about  two  hours.  An 
revoir." 

"Good,"  I  said  to  myself  —  "very  good."  And  then  I 
set  to  work. 

The  first  thing  I  did  was  to  empty  the  phial  of  laudanum 
into  the  bottle  of  brandy— or,  rather,  what  remained  of  it, 
Botte  having  tasted  freely. 

Next  I  donned  the  shoes  that  contained  the  money,  and 
ripped  open  the  soles  of  the  pair  that  contained  the  saw 
and  the  amputating-knife— broad  and  bright,  and  as  keen 
as  a  razor.  I  placed  it  in  my  breast-pocket,  and,  taking  the 
saw,  began  to  cut  the  bars  of  my  window,  three  of  which  it 
would  be  necessary  to  remove  before  a  man  of  my  girth 
could  squeeze  himself  through.  As  they  were  deeply  rusted, 
I  needed  only  to  nick  them.  That  done,  I  should  have  no 
difficulty  in  wrenching  the  bars  from  their  sockets  or  break- 
ing them  off  short. 

All  the  same,  it  was  a  tedious  job ;  and  before  I  had  fin- 
ished it  my  guests  were  at  the  door ;  so  I  must  hide  my 
saw  and  play  the  host. 

"Hadn't  we  better  blind  the  window?"  says  Botte,  as  he 

and  Rapp  disburdened  themselves  of  the  bottles  and  glasses. 

"  By  all  means,"  quoth  I  ;  and  with  great  alacrity  sprang 

up  and  curtained  the  window  with  a  coat,  which  effectually 

excluded  the  light  of  the  warders'  lanterns. 


2$6  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIKE 

"  Now  we  are  all  right,"  said  Rapp,  unbuckling  his  sword, 
an  example  which  Botte  speedily  followed. 

Then  the  dilapidated  table  was  drawn  up  in  such  sort 
that  one  of  the  beds  could  be  used  as  a  seat,  the  cell  bein<r 
ill  provided  with  sitting  accommodations. 

After  drinking  to  each  other's  health,  we  began  to  gamble 
at  large,  and  I  lost  heavily  in  small  change,  purposely  giv- 
ing  much  less  heed  to  the  game  than  to  the  replenishing  of 
my  visitors'  glasses;  and  so  soon  as  they  were  on  the  right 
side  of  two  bottles  of  burgundy,  I  proposed  a  nip  of  cognac, 
to  which  they  readily  assented,  and  during  the  rest  of  the 
carouse  drank  nothing  else.  Nevertheless  (there  being  two 
bottles  and  myself  acting  as  butler),  I  took  good  care  to 
give  Rapp  at  least  twice  as  much  of  the  sophisticated 
stuff  as  I  gave  Botte,  whose  services  I  should  require 
later  on. 

After  a  while,  and  sooner  than  I  expected,  Rapp  fell 
asleep,  dropped  from  his  chair,  and  rolled  on  the  floor. 

"Let  him  lie;  he  has  a  head  not  worth  a  row  of  pins,'' 
growled  Botte.     "Alions  ;  it's  your  throw.'' 

We  resumed  our  gamble ;  but,  in  spite  of  himself,  Citizen 
Botte  soon  began  to  nod,  and  presently  joined  his  friend  on 
the  floor,  thereby  enabling  me  to  complete  my  preparations 
at  leisure. 

I  relieved  Rapp  of  his  coat,  bound  him  hand  and  foot, 
and  gagged  him.  Botte  I  merely  bound.  Next  I  broke  his 
sword  close  by  the  hilt,  and  restored  the  broken  pieces  to 
the  scabbard. 

This  dune,  1  finished  the  nicking  of  the  bars,  tore  them 
from  their  sockets,  and  made  my  bedclothes  into  a  rope 
strong  enough  to  hold  a  man,  and  long  enough  when  let 
down  from  the  window  to  reach  to  within  five  or  six  feet  of 
the  ground. 

I    had  now  only  to  wait  until  all  was  quiet,  and  Botte  so 


A    MESMERIZED    WARDER  237 

far  recovered  from  the  effects  of  the  laudanum  as  to  be 
able  to  understand  plain  French  and  find  his  way  about. 

When  I  thought  the  time  had  come,  I  tried  to  waken  him ; 
but  kicking  and  pinching  producing  no  result,  I  poured 
water  on  his  head  and  down  his  neck. 

This  roused  him. 

"  A  thousand  thunders  !"  he  muttered  ;  "  it  is  raining — 
raining  like  a  dog,  and  I  haven't  brought  my  umbrella." 

"  Are  you  quite  awake,  Botte  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Awake  ?  Yes,  certainly,  of  course.  But  where  the 
devil  ?  And  what — what's  this  ?  I  am  corded  like  a  trunk. 
I  cannot  get  up.  I — "  (trying  to  rise).  "Am  I  a  warder,  am 
I  a  prisoner,  or  am  I  dreaming  ?" 

"At  this  moment  you  are  a  warder  and  my  prisoner.  Now 
listen,  Botte.     Do  you  understand  ?" 

"  Give  me  a  nip,  and  then  I  shall." 

I  lifted  him  up,  set  him  on  a  chair,  and  administered  the 
desired  nip. 

"  Now  I  begin  to  understand,"  said  he  ;  "  but  I  didn't  ex- 
pect this  of  you,  Lebrun." 

"  Never  mind  what  you  expected  of  me  ;  let  me  tell 
you  what  I  expect  from  you.  Rapp  lies  there,  bound  and 
gagged,  and,  as  you  see,  I  have  put  on  his  hat,  coat,  and 
sword.  Now  I  want  you  to  show  me  the  way  out  by  one 
of  the  side  doors  you  know  of.  If  you  agree,  I  shall  give 
you  a  thousand  francs  effective,  which  means  three  thou- 
sand in  paper.  If  you  refuse,  I  shall  slit  your  windpipe," 
exhibiting  my  mesmerizer,  "  and  go  by  myself." 

"  Slit  it,  then.  What's  the  odds  ?  If  I  do  what  you 
ask  I  shall  be  sent  to  the  guillotine  within  twenty -four 
hours." 

'•  Not  a  bit  of  it.  I  have  drawn  three  of  those  teeth  in 
the  window  and  made  a  rope  of  the  bedclothes.  All  you 
have  to  do  is  to  let  me  out — and  as  I  shall  be  taken  for  a 


23S  FOR   HONOR  AND   LIFE 

warder,  nobody  will  meddle  with  us— then  return  hither,  drop 
the  rope  from  the  window,  waken  Rapp,  lock  the  cell  door 
behind  you,  and  go  quietly  to  bed.  When  the  rope  is  seen 
dangling  outside  in  the  morning  it  will  be  supposed  that  I 
have  escaped  that  way." 

'■  I  low  will  it  be  supposed  you  got  over  the  wall  ?" 

"  That's  no  affair  of  yours.  My  cell  was  searched  as  usual 
during  the  day,  and  you  locked  me  in  at  the  customary  hour. 
Nobody  can  blame  you,  and  if  you  and  Rapp  keep  still 
tongues,  you  will  not  even  be  suspected." 

Still  Botte  seemed  to  hesitate. 

"This  knife  is  very  keen,"  I  added,  letting  him  feel  the 
edge  of  it  on  his  windpipe,  "and  three  thousand  francs  are 
not  to  be  picked  up  every  day  of  the  year." 

"  I  see,"  said  he.  "  If  I  refuse,  I  die  ;  if  I  agree,  I  may  not 
be  found  out,  and  three  thousand  in  assignats  are  a  thou- 
sand effective — as  much  as  the  republic  gives  me  for  a  year 
of  honest  work.  I  agree;  so  just  unloose  me,  if  you  please. 
These  cursed  cords  hurt." 

'•  We  shall  walk  arm  in  arm,"  I  observed,  as  I  undid  the 
cord  ;  "  my  left  in  your  right.  My  right  hand  will  be  under 
my  coat,  holding  the  knife  ;  and  if  you  try  to  break  away,  give 
an  alarm,  or  play  any  trick  whatever,  you  are  a  dead  man. 
You  understand  ?" 

"  Perfectly." 

"Good!  Don  your  hat,  also  buckle  on  your  sword;  it 
will  look  better.  And  as  I  have  broken  the  blade  off  short 
by  the  hilt,  you  cannot  hurt  yourself  with  it.  So  let  us 
away." 


CHAPTER    XXXIII 
I    MAKE   AN    END    OF   DEPUTY   SERIN 

When  we  were  outside,  Botte  barred  and  locked  the  cell 
door,  while  I  held  the  lantern.  Then,  returning  it  to  him, 
I  took  his  unoccupied  arm,  and  we  set  out  on  our  hazard- 
ous journey.  As  when  I  entered  the  prison  with  Marteau, 
we  traversed  several  corridors  divided  into  sections  by 
iron-bound  doors,  all  of  which  my  guide  opened  with  one 
of  his  many  keys.  But,  instead  of  going  forward  to  the 
main  entrance,  we  turned  to  the  right,  descended  a  long  un- 
derground passage  like  a  cathedral  crypt,  and  went  on  till 
we  came  to  a  heavy  door,  which  was  evidently  not  often  used. 

"  Is  this  the  door  ?"  I  asked. 

"  This  is  the  door.  On  the  other  side  you  are  free,"  an- 
swered the  warder. 

"  If  I  am  not  stopped.  You  haven't  told  me  the  pass- 
word for  the  night." 

"  That  is  not  in  the  bargain,  and  I'll  be  shot — " 

"  No  you  won't,  you'll  be  guillotined.  Suppose  I  am 
arrested  by  a  sentry  and  tell  by  whose  connivance — " 

"  Sacred  name  !  you  are  right.  I  never  thought  of  that. 
The  word  is  '  Marat.'  " 

"  Good.     Now  open,  Sesame,"  quoth  I. 

The  hinges  were  so  stiff,  the  door  so  heavy,  that  even  after 
it  was  unlocked  and  unbolted,  it  was  all  we  could  do  to  pull 
it  open. 

"  The  coast  seems  clear,"  says  Botte,  peering  forth.  "  I 
should  be  sorry  for  you  to  be  caught ;  but  if  you  are,  you 
won't  blab  ?" 


240  FOR   HONOR   AND   LIFE 

"  Not  though  they  tear  me  in  pieces.  Here  is  my  hand 
on  it,  and  here  your  reward,"  giving  him  the  stipulated 
recompense. 

'•  A  thousand  thanks.     An  revoir,  Lebrun." 

••  Heaven  forbid!  I  want  to  see  neither  you  nor  this 
hideous  prison  again.     Good-bye  forever." 

I  looked  up  at  the  stars,  took  a  deep  breath,  and  stepped 
briskly  out,  as  became  a  warder  taking  his  evening  walk. 
I  had  not  gone  far  before  I  spied  a  sentry  treading  his 
beat. 

'•  Who  goes  there  ?"  he  cried,  coming  to  a  halt. 

"  Rapp,  a  warder  of  the  Palace  "  (the  name  by  which  the 
Conciergerie  was  best  known). 

"  Advance,  warder,  and  give  the  countersign." 

"  Marat." 

"Good  !     You  can  pass  on." 

And  I  passed  on  gladly,  crossing  the  river  by  the  Pont 
au  Change,  which  was  in  a  direct  line  with  the  Rue  St. 
Denis.  But  I  took  at  once  to  the  back  streets,  at  that  time 
almost  deserted,  where  I  knew  there  were  no  police-stations, 
and  I  should  run  no  risk  of  encountering  a  patrol. 

Knowing  my  Paris  well,  and  having  a  good  eye  for  locali- 
ties, I  had  no  trouble  in  finding  M.  Dufour's  house.  A  light 
was  burning  in  the  attic  window  ;  but  bearing  in  mind  Ange- 
lique's  warning,  and  as  the  clocks  had  only  just  gone  eleven, 
I  thought  I  had  better  keep  away  for  a  while,  so  rambled  on 
northward  as  far  as  the  King's  Mews,  and  then  retraced  my 
steps  by  another  road. 

The  clock  of  St.  Sauveur  was  striking  the  last  quarter 

re    twelve,   and    I   was  within   a  few    minutes'  walk  of 

my  destination,    when    1    chanced  to  meet    a   man  with    a 

lantern,  the  light  of  which,  to  my  annoyance,  fell  full  on 

my  face. 

I    stepped   aside,    and  was  about  to   pass   on   when  he 


I    MAKE   AN    END   OF   DEPUTY   SERIN  241 

uttered  an  exclamation  that  made  me  jump  half-way  across 
the  street. 

"  A  thousand  thunders  !  Lebrun  !  You  have  escaped  ! 
Help !  To  me  the  police !  To  me !"  cried  Serin,  for  he 
it  was. 

Before  the  words  were  well  out  of  his  mouth,  I  had 
seized  him  by  the  throat  and  dashed  the  lantern  from  his 
hand. 

"  Silence,  you  scoundrel !"  I  said,  in  a  fierce  whisper. 
"Another  word  and  I  will  bury  this  knife  in  your  heart. 
Yesterday  you  insulted  me,  and,  when  I  resented  the  out- 
rage, threatened  me  with  the  guillotine.  You  are  a  mur- 
derer both  in  thought  and  deed,  and  deserve  to  die  the 
death  of  a  dog.  But  I  will  treat  you  better  than  you  were 
going  to  treat  me.  I  will  give  you  a  chance  for  your  life. 
You  are  armed  ;  draw  and  defend  yourself,  and  we  will  fight 
our  quarrel  out,  though,  'pon  my  soul,  I  do  you  too  much 
honor." 

Serin  answered  promptly  to  my  challenge,  and  our  blades 
crossed.  He  knew  something  of  fence,  and,  to  do  him  justice, 
showed  no  want  of  pluck ;  but  I  soon  found  that  I  was  the 
better  swordsman,  and  my  length  of  arm  gave  me  a  decided 
advantage  over  him.  As  all  was  quiet,  and  the  clash  of  our 
weapons  might  be  heard  by  some  passing  gendarme  in  the 
next  street,  I  pressed  my  adversary  hard  from  the  outset ; 
yet  it  is  ill  fighting  in  the  dark,  and  once  he  touched  me ; 
but  the  next  moment  I  engaged  his  blade  in  carte,  and,  car- 
rying my  point  behind  his  wrist  and  under  his  elbow,  ran 
him  through  from  side  to  side. 

Serin  fell  without  a  groan,  stark  dead,  and  I  felt  that  I 
had  deserved  well  of  France  in  ridding  her  of  so  pestilent 
a  ruffian — 1  would  gladly  have  served  every  other  Terrorist 
in  the  same  way.  Nevertheless,  it  was  not  a  deed  to  be 
proclaimed  on  the  house-tops,  and  as  a  sword  might  be  an 
16 


242  FOR   HONOR   AND   LIFE 

embarrassing  possession  when  the  deputy's  death  became 
known,  and  I  was  solicitous  not  to  get  my  friends  into  trou- 
ble, I  made  straight  for  the  nearest  quay,  rolled  the  weapon 
in  Rapp's  coat,  and  dropped  both  into  the  Seine,  then 
returned  to  the  Rue  St.  Denis,  and,  after  reconnoitring  the 
goldsmith's  house,  entered  by  the  back  door,  as  Angelique 
had  directed. 

So  soon  as  I  was  inside  I  doffed  my  shoes,  bolted  the 
door,  and  crept  softly  up-stairs  to  the  attic-chamber,  where 
the  light  was  still  burning. 

It  was  a  cosey  little  room  with  a  camp-bed,  on  which  I  lay 
down  without  undressing,  and,  being  thoroughly  tired,  fell 
asleep  as  soon  as  my  head  touched  the  pillow,  and  did  not 
open  my  eyes  till  long  after  sunrise,  when  I  was  wakened 
by  a  light  tapping  at  my  chamber  door. 

"  Yes,"  said  I. 

"  It  is  I,  Madame  Dufour.     Are  you  dressed  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  did  not  undress." 

"  I  may  come  in,  then  ?" 

"Certainly.     I  shall  be  delighted." 

Whereupon  the  lady  entered. 

"I  am  so  glad,"  she  said,  taking  both  my  hands — "so 
glad.  We  were  in  an  agony  of  suspense  last  night,  Ange- 
lique and  I,  and  until  she  came  to  my  room,  about  one 
o'clock,  and  told  me  that  she  had  heard  footsteps  on  the 
stairs,  and  that  the  back  door  was  bolted — which  meant,  of 
course,  that  you  had  come  in — I  could  not  sleep  a  wink. 
You  must  tell  us  all  about  it  when  Angelique  comes.  I 
will  call  her  in  a  minute.  She  sent  me  to  see  if  you  were 
awake;  but,  meanwhile,  I  have  something  to  tell  you — 
something  very  grave  and  terrible.  Serin  has  been  assas- 
sinated. His  body  was  found  in  the  Rue  de  Renard  at 
three  o'clock,  but  it  is  almost  certain  that  he  was  killed  not 
more  than  ten  minutes  after  lie  left  our  house,  which  was 


I    MAKE   AN    END   OF   DEPUTY   SERIN  243 

between  eleven  and  twelve.  The  police  were  here  making 
inquiries  an  hour  ago." 

"  Have  they  arrested  the  assassin  ?" 

"  They  have  not  the  least  idea  where  to  look  for  him. 
They  think  he  is  some  personal  or  political  enemy,  who, 
knowing  Serin  was  in  the  habit  of  visiting  our  house,  lay  in 
wait  for  him.  And  I  should  not  wonder.  He  was  himself 
an  implacable  enemy  and  a  Terrorist,  and,  between  ourselves, 
fully  deserved  what  has  befallen  him.  .  .  .  But  I  must  call 
Mademoiselle  de  la  Tour ;  she  is  dying  to  see  you  and  hear 
the  account  of  your  escape.     So  am  I." 

And  then  my  hostess  left  the  room  and  in  a  few  minutes 
returned  with  Angelique.  The  dear  girl  looked  pale  and 
worn,  and  when  (disregarding  French  etiquette  in  such  mat- 
ters) I  put  my  arms  round  her,  all  she  could  say  was  :  "  Oh, 
Fritz,  thank  Heaven  !"  and  then,  laying  her  head  on  my 
shoulder,  fell  a-weeping.  But  quickly  regaining  her  com- 
posure, she  bade  me  tell  her  and  Mme.  Dufour  all  that 
had  happened  me  since  last  night,  which  I  did,  with  the 
exception  that  I  made  no  mention  of  Serin  or  of  Rapp's 
sword  and  coat. 

So  soon  as  I  had  finished  and  answered  a  few  questions 
in  elucidation  of  my  tale,  Mme.  Dufour  was  good  enough  to 
say  she  would  fetch  me  some  breakfast,  and  with  that  left 
the  room. 

"Has  Madame  Dufour  told  you  about  Serin's  mur- 
der ?"  asked  Angelique,  when  the  lady  in  question  was 
gone. 

"  Yes,  but  are  you  sure  that  it  was  a  murder?" 

"  Mon  Dicu  !  Can  you  ...  is  it  possible  you  know  some- 
thing about  it  ?  ...  I  am  sure  you  do.  I  can  read  it  in  your 
face.  You  met  him ;  you  saw  his  body !"  she  cried,  ex- 
citedly. 

"  I  can  have  no  secrets  from  you,  dear,"  said  I,  taking 


244  FOR    H0N0R   AND    LIFE 

her  hand.  "  It  was  done  in  fair  fight.  I  will  tell  you  all, 
and  then  you  can  judge  whether  I  acted  rightly." 

Which  I  did,  from  the  encounter  in  the  prison  yard  to  the 
duel  in  the  street. 

"  It  is  a  dreadful  thing  to  take  a  man's  life,"  she  said, 
when  I  had  done  j  "  but  if  you  had  not  taken  Serin's  he 
would  have  taken  yours,  and  he  was  a  bad  man.  You 
could  not  have  acted  otherwise,  and  I  think  you  acted 
rightly.- 

From  that  time  forth  there  was  no  further  mention  of 
Serin  between  my  love  and  me. 

Presently  came  Mine.  Dufour  with  my  breakfast,  looking 
very  serious. 

'•  What  is  wrong  ?  Have  you  heard  bad  news  ?"  inquired 
Angelique,  anxiously. 

"Only  that  the  town  is  ringing  with  the  assassination  of 
Serin  and  the  escape  of  a  certain  Lebrun,  alias  Boucher, 
from  the  Palace.  You  are  out  of  prison,  Monsieur  Astor, 
but  you  are  not  out  of  danger,  neither  is  our  dear  Angelique, 
here." 

•Angelique  in  danger?  How?  why?"  I  exclaimed,  in 
dismay. 

"  She  comes  of  a  noble  family,  her  father  was  bitterly 
opposed  to  the  revolution,  she  is  the  particular  friend  of 
Madame  de  Malartie  and  niece  to  Monsieur  de  Lancy — 
more  than  enough  to  make  her  'suspect;'  and  now  that 
Serin  is  dead — " 

"Good  heavens  !  what  has  Serin  to  do  with  it  ?" 

'•  Well,  you  see,  Serin  admired  Mademoiselle  de  la  Tour — 
admired  her  very  much.  His  visits  here  were  of  late  very 
frequent.  It  was  easy  to  divine  with  what  object,  and  I 
had  to  entreat  Angelique,  as  she  valued  her  life,  not  to  treat 
him  with  the  disdain  and  contempt  which  he  inspired. 
You  understand?" 


I    MAKE   AN    END    OF    DEPUTY    SERIN  245 

I  understood  perfectly,  and  felt  more  pleased  than  ever 
that  I  had  given  the  ruffian  his  quietus. 

"  His  attentions  were  odious  ;  that  goes  without  saying," 
continued  Mme.  Dufour;  "yet,  being  unaware  of  the  fact, 
and  as  Angelique,  in  deference  to  my  advice,  did  not  abso- 
lutely reject  him,  he  took  care  she  was  not  molested.  But 
now — " 

"I  see.     His  death  increases  her  danger." 

"  Unquestionably,  for  the  Jacobins,  enraged  by  the  depu- 
ty's assassination,  will  be  more  virulent  and  suspicious  than 
ever.  Unless  Angelique  departs  quickly,  she  is  sure  to  be 
arrested,  and  a  domiciliary  visit  would  lead  also  to  your 
arrest — and  ours.  You  must  be  out  of  Paris  by  this  time 
to-morrow." 

"  Nothing  would  please  me  better.     But  how  ?" 

"We  have  a  plan,  Angelique  and  I.  We  talked  it  over 
last  night,  and  completed  it  this  morning.  You  are  to  get 
yourselves  up  as  tramps." 

"  Angelique  and  I  ?" 

"  You,  Angelique,  and  the  vicomte.  It  would  not  be 
right  for  you  and  her  to  travel  by  yourselves.  Even  with 
her  uncle  as  guardian,  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  the  proprie- 
ties would  approve.  But  these  are  times  when  the  proprie- 
ties must  take  care  of  themselves.  Do  you  play  any  mu- 
sical instrument  ?" 

"  Not  even  a  penny  whistle." 

"  Nor  sing?" 

"  Nothing  in  French." 

"  That  is  unfortunate.  But  the  vicomte  is  a  fair  violin- 
ist, I  believe,  and  Angelique  sings.  He  will  fiddle  revolu- 
tionary airs,  and  she  will  sing  them — whenever  it  seems 
necessary ;  and  as  you  can  neither  play  nor  sing,  you  must 
enact  the  part  of  a  blind  beggar — Angelique  being  your 
sister,  Monsieur  de  Lancy  your  father." 


246  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

"I  know  I  am  only  a  stripling;  all  the  same,  I  doubt 
whether  De  Lancy  looks  old  enough  to  be  my  father,  and 
anybody  who  looks  at  my  eyes  will  see  that  I  am  not 
blind,"  quoth  I,  dubiously.  But  this  objection  Mme.  Du- 
four  brushed  aside  as  unceremoniously  as  every  other  that 
I  urged.  She  had  not  been  on  the  stage  for  nothing ;  she 
could  make  the  vicomte  look  old  enough  to  be  my  grandfa- 
ther ;  and  by  painting  my  eyelids  and  dropping  belladonna 
in  my  eyes,  I  could  be  made  to  look  as  sightless  as  a  mar- 
ble statue. 

"  Leave  that  to  me,"  she  added.  "  You  have  been  an 
employe  in  a  fireworks  factory,  and  lost  your  sight  through 
an  explosion  of  gunpowder.  Your  eyes  look  so  bad  that 
you  wear  a  shade  over  them.  Angelique  will  lead  you  by 
the  hand,  and  you  shall  have  a  little  dog  that  will  lead  you 
by  a  string.  My  husband  will  obtain  your  passports.  It 
is  all  a  matter  of  money;  the  forging  of  passports  has  be- 
come quite  a  trade.  And  if  you  want  money  for  the  jour- 
ney, he  will  find  it  for  you,  on  your  simple  undertaking  to 
remit  the  amount  to  a  correspondent  at  Amsterdam,  whose 
name  and  address  he  will  give  you." 

From  which  I  inferred  that  M.  Uufour  was  very  anxious 
to  be  rid  of  us — and  small  blame  to  him. 

To  my  inquiry  whether  all  these  preparations  could  be 
completed  during  the  day  she  answered,  "  Certainly."  Her 
husband  would  see  to  the  papers,  herself  to  the  garments  of 
disguise. 

"  England  being  your  destination,  you  will,  of  course, 
make  for  Dieppe,"  observed  my  energetic  hostess,  "  the 
more  especially  as  you  can  go  part  of  the  way  thither  by 

T." 

"Exactly  what  I  was  going  to  propose,"  said  I.  "You 
have  thought  of  everything,  Madame  Dufour.  I  place  my- 
self gratefully  and  unreservedly  in  your  hands." 


I    MAKE   AN    END    OF    DEPUTY   SERIN  247 

"  You  must  not  give  me  all  the  credit,  though.  The  plan 
is  as  much  Angelique's  as  mine,"  says  she. 

"  Not  at  all.  I  merely  suggested  the  idea  of  disguising 
ourselves  as  vagrants,"  put  in  Angelique,  "  and  monsieur, 
your  husband — " 

"  Monsieur,  my  husband,  did  nothing  whatever — at  least, 
nothing  more  than  offer  to  provide  you  with  passports  and 
money,"  interrupted  Madame  Dufour.  "  It  is  our  scheme 
entirely." 

Angelique  and  I  exchanged  amused  glances.  Without 
passports  and  money,  quitting  Paris  would  be  difficult ;  get- 
ting to  England  impossible. 

"  It  is  our  scheme  entirely,"  repeated  the  lady.  "  And 
now  we  must  be  off  to  the  Conciergerie.  You  seem  sur- 
prised ?" 

"  And  so  I  am,  as  much  as  if  you  had  proposed  to  put 
your  head  into  a  lion's  mouth." 

"  But  don't  you  see  that  it  is  absolutely  necessary  ?  For 
several  weeks  past  I  have  gone  to  the  Palace  occasionally, 
Angelique  almost  daily,  to  see  Madame  la  Marquise.  If  we 
omit  going  the  day  after  your  escape  the  omission  is  sure  to  be 
remarked,  especially  as  Madame  la  Marquise  was  so  ill  yes- 
terday that  they  did  not  think  she  would  live  through  the 
night,  and  somebody  might  recall  that  the  prisoner  Lebrun 
and  Mademoiselle  de  la  Tour  had  been  seen  talking  through 
the  bars.  On  the  other  hand,  her  appearance  will  be  re- 
garded as  proof  presumptive  of  her  innocence,  and  we  shall 
hear  no  end  of  gossip  about  your  disappearance." 

"  Well,  it  is  perhaps  one  of  those  cases  in  which  boldness 
is  the  best  policy.  All  the  same,  I  shall  be  on  pins  till  you 
return." 

"  You  will  have  to  be  on  pins  a  long  time,  then ;  for  we 
have  much  to  do,  and  shall  not  be  back  until  late  in  the 
afternoon.     But  if  either  of  us  is  arrested,  you  are  pretty 


24S  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

sure  to  be  apprised  of  the  fact  within  the  hour — by  a  domi- 
ciliary visit.     So  don't  worry." 

They  went  away  smiling  and  full  of  courage,  leaving  me, 
however,  in  an  agony  of  apprehension,  since,  despite  Mine. 
Dufour's  confidence,  I  knew  they  were  running  a  terrible 
risk,  and  I  could  not  divest  myself  of  the  fear  that  Ange- 
lique  might  be  detained — and  then  ! 


CHAPTER   XXXIV 
BY    LAND   AND   SEA 

My  anxiety,  which  waxed  as  the  day  waned,  taught  me 
for  the  first  time  in  my  life  that  danger  impending  over 
those  you  love  is  harder  to  bear  than  a  danger  that  threat- 
ens yourself — above  all,  when  you  are  obliged  to  remain 
quiescent,  and  apprehension  is  intensified  by  suspense. 

"  If  Angelique  is  taken,  what  shall  I  do— what  will  be- 
come of  us  ?  It  will  be  impossible  to  leave  her  to  perish, 
equally  impossible  to  save  her.  But  one  thing  I  can  do  :  I 
can  die  with  her;  and  I  will.  If  I  hear  that  she  has  been 
detained,  I  will  return  to  the  Conciergerie  and  give  my- 
self up." 

Thus  ran  my  thoughts,  and  bitterly  did  i  rue  having 
killed  Serin ;  for  if  he  had  lived,  Angelique  had  been  safe. 
But  as  the  leaden  hours  crept  on  I  grew  more  tranquil, 
since  in  existing  circumstances  no  news  was  essentially 
good  news.  After  a  while  the  door  opened  and  in  came 
the  man  of  the  house,  looking  so  ill  at  ease  that  my  fears 
revived,  and  without  answering  his  greeting  I  put  the  ques- 
tion that  was  uppermost  in  my  mind. 

"  If  any  harm  had  befallen  Mademoiselle  de  la  Tour  or 
my  wife  I  should  have  heard  before  this,"  said  he,  taking 
from  his  pockets  half  a  bottle  of  wine  and  some  bread  and 
cheese,  which  he  had  smuggled  out  of  the  kitchen.  "  One 
cannot  be  too  cautious.  If  the  maids  were  to  get  an  ink- 
ling that  we  had  a  guest  in  the  attic-chamber  it  might  be 
fatal.  I  count  myself  a  good  patriot,  but  patriotism  has 
ceased  to  be  a  protection.    Let  a  secret  enemy  or  a  treacher- 


250  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

ous  domestic  denounce  you  and  you  are  doomed.  Serin's 
death  makes  a  great  difference  to  me,  monsieur.  He  may 
have  been  a  bad  man — indeed,  between  ourselves,  I  think 
he  was — but  he  was  a  good  friend  to  me,  and  while  he  lived 
I  had  little  to  fear.  Now  I  am  in  no  better  case  than  any 
other  body.  The  mere  fact  of  entertaining  Mademoiselle 
de  la  Tour  is  enough  to  make  me  'suspect.'  And  my  wife, 
monsieur,  has  a  tongue — she  has  a  tongue  which  I  fear  will 
get  us  both  into  trouble  one  of  these  days.  But  I  am  not 
come  to  talk  about  my  affairs  ;  I  am  come  to  talk  about 
yours.     How  about  money  ?" 

I  told  Monsieur  Dufour  how  much  money  I  had  left.  It 
was  very  little ;  and  though  our  journey  to  Dieppe  would  be 
inexpensive,  I  should  doubtless  have  to  pay  heavily  for  con- 
veyance from  Dieppe  to  the  English  coast ;  so  by  way  of 
making  ample  provision  for  this  eventuality,  he  agreed  to  let 
me  have  the  equivalent  of  one  hundred  pounds,  and  I  on 
my  part  undertook  to  remit  the  amount  of  the  loan  to  Van 
Loon,  Vandam  &  Co.,  his  correspondents  at  Amsterdam. 

This  point  settled,  we  discussed  the  scheme  for  our  flight, 
of  which  M.  Dufour  fully  approved.  He  thought  that  once 
out  of  Paris  we  should  encounter  no  serious  difficulty  until 
we  got  to  Dieppe,  where,  and  I  fully  agreed  with  him,  we 
should  need  to  be  exceedingly  wary.  The  passport  which 
he  had  procured  for  us  seemed  to  be  quite  in  order.  It 
described  us  as  the  family  Bopp :  Jacques  (father),  itinerant 
musician,  Jean  (son),  ex-employe  in  a  fireworks  factory 
(eyes  seriously  injured  and  sight  all  but  destroyed  by  an 
explosion  of  gunpowder);  Marie  (daughter),  cantatrice. 

"I  thought  it  better  to  say  'eyes  seriously  injured'  than 
stone  blind,"  explained  M.  Dufour.  "  It  might  be  conven- 
ient to  admit  that  you  can  see  just  a  little." 

This  relieved  me  <>f  an  anxiety.  It  would  be  easier  to 
play  the  part  of  a  purblind  than  of  a  wholly  blind  man. 


BY    LAND   AND    SEA  25 1 

We  were  still  talking  when  the  door  opened  again  and 
Madame  Dufour  entered  smiling.  All  had  gone  well.  Even 
the  death  of  the  poor  marchioness,  considering  her  great 
age  and  recent  sufferings,  and  that,  had  she  lived  a  few  days 
longer,  she  must  have  died  on  the  scaffold,  might  be  regarded 
as  well.  They  had  stayed  at  the  Conciergerie  only  a  short 
time,  yet  sufficiently  long  to  learn  that  the  officers  of  the 
prison  were  still  quite  in  the  dark  as  to  the  method  of  my 
escape,  and  Botte  and  Rapp  at  large  and  unsuspected. 

The  old  clothes,  wigs,  and  the  rest  were  already  in  the 
house,  and  M.  Dufour  undertook  to  transfer  them  from  his 
own  room  to  the  attic-chamber.  Angelique  had  gone  to 
look  for  her  uncle,  who  kept  himself  so  well  hidden  that 
even  with  the  clews  she  possessed  there  was  some  difficulty 
in  finding  him.  But  as  he  was  dying  to  get  out  of  Paris, 
there  could  be  no  question  that  he  would  profit  by  the  pres- 
ent opportunity. 

Having  imparted  this  information  and  made  a  few  obser- 
vations of  a  general  character,  Madame  Dufour  left  us  to 
ourselves,  only,  however,  to  return  an  hour  later  accom- 
panied by  Angelique. 

I  was  amused  to  observe  how  faithfully  (notwithstanding 
the  serious  business  she  had  on  hand)  our  hostess  played 
the  part  of  chaperon.  Only  once  did  she  leave  us  for  a 
few  minutes  to  our  own  company.  Wherefore  our  greeting 
was  not  very  lover-like,  according  to  English  notions.  I  took 
both  my  sweetheart's  hands  in  mine,  pressed  one  of  them 
respectfully  to  my  lips,  and  then  prayed  her  to  be  seated. 

She  had  found  her  uncle,  albeit  not  where  she  expected 
to  find  him,  for  he  seldom  remained  in  one  hiding-place 
more  than  three  days.  As  Madame  Dufour  had  anticipa- 
ted, he  was  more  than  willing  to  accompany  us  in  our  flight 
and  accept  the  role  assigned  to  him.  He  would  come  at 
eleven  o'clock,  suitably  attired  for  the  occasion,  enter  at  the 


252  FOR    HONOR  AND    LIFE 

back  door,  and  share  my  room.  Angelique  had  bought  and 
brought  with  her  a  second-hand  fiddle,  which  seemed  just 
the  thing  for  an  itinerant  musician. 

Our  plans  prospered.  Shortly  after  eleven  De  Lancy  stole 
into  the  attic- chamber  carrying  his  shoes  in  one  hand  and 
a  small  bundle  in  the  other. 

If  I  had  not  expected  him  I  should  not  have  known  him. 
His  clothes  were  as  shabby  as  any  beggar's.  He  wore  a 
white  peruke,  which  fitted  him  like  his  own  hair,  and  a  pair 
of  horn -rimmed  spectacles.  He  had  shaved  off  his  eye- 
brows, and  anxiety  and  long  seclusion  had  made  him  so 
wan  and  lantern  jawed  that  I  thought  he  would  easily  pass 
for  my  father  without  any  artistic  touches  from  the  prac- 
tised hand  of  Mme.  Dufour. 

We  did  not  talk  much— there  would  be  plenty  of  time  on 
the  road  for  telling  each  other  the  tale  of  our  late  advent- 
ures —  but  got  us  quickly  to  bed,  and  at  four  o'clock  we 
were  up  and  dressed  —  I,  of  course,  in  the  garments  pro- 
vided for  me  by  Mme.  Dufour,  as  to  which  I  need  only  say 
that  they  were  a  good  match  for  De  Lancy's. 

Our  next  proceeding  was  to  descend  to  a  room  on  the 
first  floor,  where  we  found  M.  Dufour  and  the  two  ladies. 
Angelique's  face,  hands,  and  arms  had  been  dyed  nut- 
brown  with  walnut- juice,  and  for  all  that  she  wore  a  com- 
mon linsey  gown,  short  by  the  ankles,  a  shabby  jacket  and 
clumsy  shoes,  and  her  coiffure  was  nothing  more  than  a  red 
kerchief  twisted  round  her  head.     I  thought  she  had  never 

d  more  charming;   she  was  surely  the  prettiest  beg 
maid  I  had  ever  set  eyes  on. 

Mine.  Dufour  took  me  in  hand  at  once,  dropped  bella- 
donna into  my  eyes,  and  painted  the  lids  and  brows  in 
such  sort  that  Angelique  declared  she  could  not  hear  to 
look  at  me,  and  turned  away  shuddering.  Then  the  shade 
was  adjusted,  and  my  disguise  compli 


BY   LAND   AND    SEA  253 

Being  the  strongest,  I  had  naturally  to  carry  the  family 
belongings,  which  were  bestowed  in  a  capacious  wallet. 

The  idea  of  taking  a  dog  had  been  dropped,  M.  Du- 
four  fearing  that  the  creature's  barking  might  waken  the 
servants,  and,  perchance,  disturb  the  neighbors. 

My  money  was  stitched  in  my  waistcoat  lining  as  before, 
and  for  weapons  I  had  a  stout  stick  and  the  amputating- 
knife — the  latter  handy,  albeit  well  concealed.  Ange'lique's 
jewelry,  of  which  she  had  a  good  deal,  was  hidden  in  her 
clothing. 

All  being  ready,  we  bade  the  kindly  pair  to  whom  we 
owed  so  much  a  grateful  farewell,  and  slipped  out  of  the 
house  while  it  was  yet  dark. 

De  Lancy,  with  his  fiddle-bag  under  his  arm,  went  first, 
Angelique  and  I  following  hand  in  hand.  We  went  on  our 
way  in  sombre  silence ;  for  the  route  we  took  (past  the  Car- 
rousel, the  Tuileries,  and  Revolution  Place,  where  still  loomed 
the  terrible  guillotine)  was  haunted  by  memories  that  par- 
alyzed our  tongues  and  depressed  our  spirits,  and  between. 
us  and  England  lay  the  ordeal  of  the  barrier  and  a  perilous 
journey. 

As  the  sun  rose  we  stepped  out  more  briskly,  and  by 
the  time  we  reached  the  Arc  de  Triomphe  it  was  full  day- 
light. 

"  What  can  you  sing,  Angelique  ?"  asked  the  vicomte. 

"  I  learned  the  words  of  '  Ca  Ira '  and  the  '  Marseillaise ' 
yesterday ;  I  can  also  sing  '  Malbrook,'  and  a  few  other 
things." 

"  Good  !  That  is  enough  for  the  present ;  and  if  you  are 
required  to  sing  any  of  their  infernal  republican  airs,  look 
as  though  you  were  pleased,  and  put  your  heart  into  it.  .  .  . 
Allons.  If  we  go  with  a  confident  air,  they  may  let  us  pass 
through  without  question." 

Which  they  did,  but  only  to  call  us  back  the  next  minute. 


254  F0R    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

"You  are  in  a  hurry,  I  think, "said  the  officer  on  duty, 
gruffly.     "Whither  are  you  going?" 

"On  a  professional  tour,"  answered  De  Lancy. 

"  Which  means  a  begging  expedition,  from  the  look  of 
you.     Your  passport  ?" 

De  Lancy  produced  it. 

"  Hum  !  the  Bopp  family  —  father,  son,  and  daughter. 
Son  nearly  blind — or  supposed  to  be." 

And  with  that  he  raised  my  shade  (through  which  I 
could  see  dimly),  and  I  fixed  my  eyes  in  a  stony  glare. 

"  Poor  devil !  Blind  enough,"  he  murmured.  "  Pity, 
though  ;  you  would  make  a  fine  recruit.  Could  you  give  us 
a  bit  of  music,  Citizen  Bopp — you  and  your  charming  daugh- 
ter?" 

"  With  pleasure,"  responded  De  Lancy,  uncasing  his  fid- 
dle. "  We  will  give  you  the  '  Ca  Ira.'  Now  Marie  !"  flour- 
ishing his  bow. 

They  gave  it  so  well  that  the  gendarmes  were  quite  de- 
lighted. 

"  It  is  all  right;  you  can  go  on,"  said  the  officer.  "  And 
you  won't  need  to  beg;  only  play  like  that,  and  you  will 
come  back  with  pockets  full  of  money." 

"  A  good  omen,"  observed  the  vicomte,  sotto  voce,  as  he 
put  up  his  fiddle. 

Resuming  our  journey  with  lightened  hearts,  we  reached 
St.  Germain  towards  sundown,  and  passed  the  night  at  a 
little  river-side  inn,  where,  hearing  that  a  boat  was  to  start 
early  next  morning  for  Rouen,  we  took  passage  by  her, 
with  the  intention,  however,  of  landing  before  we  got  thith- 
er ;  that  city,  like  Paris,  having  barriers  and  prying  police- 
folk  whom  we  had  no  wish  to  encounter. 

This  design  we  carried  out,  disembarking  about  a  league 
to  the  eastward  of  Rouen,  and  gaining  the  direct  road  to 
1  lieppe  by  a  long  detour. 


BY   LAND    AND    SEA  255 

Mostly  walking,  occasionally  getting  a  lift  on  a  country 
cart,  and  making  such  stages  as  Ange'lique  could  easily  ac- 
complish, we  were  nearly  a  week  on  the  road  between  Rouen 
and  the  coast.  Now  and  then  my  companions  gave  a  per- 
formance at  the  villages  through  which  we  passed,  and  at 
one  place  De  Lancy  and  his  fiddle  were  requisitioned  for  a 
rustic  fete,  whereby  we  lost  a  whole  day. 

During  our  last  stage  we  fell  in  with  a  tramp  who  gave  us 
a  useful  wrinkle.  Dieppe,  he  said,  was  just  then  a  hard 
place  to  get  into,  and  a  bad  place  to  be  in.  So  many  fugi- 
tives had  escaped  that  way  that  the  police  scrutinized  pass- 
ports with  great  severity,  were  very  rough  on  wayfarers  like 
ourselves,  and,  as  likely  as  not,  would  either  turn  us  back 
or  lock  us  up. 

But  he  could  show  us  a  by-road  by  which,  at  the  edge  of 
dark,  we  might  obtain  access  to  the  town  through  the  sub- 
urb of  Le  Pollet  (a  quarter  inhabited  by  sailors  and  fisher- 
men) without  incurring  these  risks. 

This  meant  a  tip  and  a  bottle  of  wine,  which  we  gladly 
gave  him.  It  would  have  been  worth  our  while  to  give  him 
a  good  deal  more.  In  Le  Pollet  dwelt  Blondin,  the  smug- 
gler captain,  to  whom  I  had  been  introduced  by  Von  Affry. 

So  at  dusk  we  wended  thitherward,  and  were  taken  by 
the  friendly  tramp  to  a  lodging  suitable  for  folk  of  our  con- 
dition. 

After  we  had  supped,  De  Lancy  and  myself  set  out  to  look 
for  Blondin,  whom  we  were  lucky  enough  to  find  at  home. 
He  received  us  gruffly,  remembering  neither  my  name  nor 
face,  and  not  until  I  reminded  him  of  what  had  passed  at 
our  previous  interview  did  he  recognize  me  as  Von  Affry's 
friend  and  throw  aside  his  reserve. 

He  was  a  brave  old  salt,  had  no  political  opinions,  and 
cared  not  a  button-top  for  the  police ;  yet  he  knew  how  to 
drive  a  bargain.     Not  for  a  centime  less  than  twenty-five 


256  FOR    HONOR    AND    LIFE 

hundred  francs  effective  (^"ioo)  could  he  run  us  across  the 
Channel,  but  at  that  price  he  would  undertake  to  land  us 
safely  in  England  (wind,  weather,  revenue  cutters,  and  war- 
ships permitting)  the  next  day  but  one. 

I  offered  to  make  the  price  one  hundred  and  twenty 
pounds  if  he  would  say  the  next  day. 

'•  That  means  setting  sail  to-night,"  quoth  he,  thought- 
fully. "  Well,  if  you  will  put  up  with  a  rather  small  and  not 
very  well-found  boat,  I  think  it  may  be  done." 

'•  We  will  put  up  with  anything  that  will  convey  us  safely 
across,"  said  I. 

"Done!  Be  here  at  ten  o'clock,  sharp,  and  you  will 
find  somebody  to  show  you  where  the  Beautiful  Star  is 
berthed,"  said  he. 

On  this  hint  we  hied  us  back  to  our  inn  to  inform  Ange- 
lique  how  we  had  fared,  and,  presently  returning,  found  two 
sailors  at  Blondin's  door,  who,  after  conveying  us  to  the 
water-side,  led  us  across  half  a  dozen  vessels  moored  side 
by  side,  at  so  great  a  pace  that,  the  night  being  dark  and 
the  decks  slippery  with  recent  rain,  we  could  scarce  keep 
up  with  them. 

"  Behold  her  !"  exclaimed  one  of  the  fellows  at  last,  to  my 
great  satisfaction,  for  in  trying  to  help  Angelique  I  had 
tripped  over  a  coil  of  rope  and  barked  my  shins. 

The  Beautiful  Star  was  not  a  big  vessel — only  about  half 
the  size  of  a  canal-boat,  as  far  as  I  could  judge.  But  little 
time  was  given  us  for  inspection,  since  no  sooner  were  we 
aboard  than  Blondin  opened  a  trap-door  and  bade  us  go  be- 
low and  hide  under  a  spare  sail  we  should  find  there,  add- 
ing that  we  might  have  a  visit  from  the  police,  or  from  some 
of  the  harbor-master's  people  before  we  got  outside. 

So  down  we  went  and  there  we  hid.     Soon,  however,  the 
boat  began  to  move,  and  after  a  while  the  trap  door  op 
again  and  we  were  allowed  to  go  on  deck. 


BY    LAND    AND    SEA  257 

There  was  a  small  cabin  aft,  where  sleeping  accommoda- 
tion had  been  prepared  for  Angelique.  De  Lancy  and  my- 
self preferred  to  stay  on  deck.  Save  the  hold,  there  was 
nowhere  else  for  us,  and,  besides  being  pitch-dark,  it  was  as 
evil-smelling  as  my  first  cell  at  the  Conciergerie. 

Though  the  weather  was  dirty,  the  wind  was  fair,  and 
shortly  before  six  o'clock  we  sighted  the  white  cliffs  of  dear 
old  England. 

I  could  have  shouted  for  joy ;  and,  despite  the  wetness  of 
my  clothes  and  the  sickness  of  my  stomach,  should  have 
done  so  had  not  De  Lancy  looked  so  woe-begone  and  the 
sailors  so  serious.  For  by  this  time  it  was  blowing  a  gale 
of  wind,  and  the  sea  was  so  rough  withal,  and  the  old  hooker 
so  rotten,  that  Blondin  made  no  secret  of  his  fear  that  we 
might  go  to  the  bottom  or  drive  against  the  cliffs.  To  pre- 
vent this  catastrophe  he  let  go  both  his  anchors.  Whether 
wisely  I  am  unable  to  say,  not  being  skilled  in  seamanship. 
But  the  result  was  unfortunate  ;  for  when  we  had  been  rid- 
ing about  an  hour,  the  cables  parted,  the  mast  snapped,  and 
we  drifted  helplessly  shoreward,  grounding  at  last  on  a  sand- 
bank between  Newhaven  and  Brighton,  as  luck  would  have 
it,  not  more  than  fourscore  yards  from  the  strand,  where 
several  people,  fishermen  and  others,  were  watching  us. 

We  had  no  boat,  and  it  is  doubtful  whether  a  row-boat 
could  have  won  through  the  breakers  that  raced  over  the 
sand-bank  and  clashed  against  the  smack,  which  lay  on  her 
beam  ends  exposed  to  all  the  fury  of  the  storm.  But  Blon- 
din was  equal  to  the  occasion  ;  he  knotted  a  rope  to  a  spar, 
which,  being  launched  into  the  sea,  was  swept  ashore  and 
caught  by  the  fishermen. 

The  rope  was  then  made  fast,  and  the  other  end  of  it  be- 
ing held  taut  by  the  people  ashore,  we  were  all  enabled  to 
land.  Angelique  would  have  ventured  alone,  but  I  insisted 
on  carrying  her,  and  though  we  were  a  good  deal  buffeted,  I 
17 


25S  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

succeeded  in  placing  her  on  terra  firma,  save  for  cold  and 
exhaustion  and  a  thorough  drenching,  none  the  worse. 

We  received  a  warm  welcome  from  the  unknown  friends 
among  whom  we  found  ourselves,  and  when  they  learned  that 
we  were  fugitives,  and  that  one  of  our  number  was  an  Eng- 
lish officer,  late  of  the  Swiss  Guard,  who  but  ten  days  pre- 
viously had  escaped  from  a  French  prison,  they  gave  us  a 
hearty  cheer  and  took  us  to  a  little  inn  hard  by. 

Angelique  and  her  uncle,  who  had  been  very  sick,  and 
were  both  perishing  with  cold,  went  straight  to  bed  while 
their  clothes  were  dried.  But  I  had  an  imperative  duty  to 
perform,  and,  borrowing  from  the  landlord  a  suit  of  clothes 
which,  though  a  tight  fit,  served  passably  well,  sat  down  to 
write  to  my  father. 

I  gave  him,  first  of  all,  a  brief  account  of  my  adventures, 
with  promise  of  a  fuller  account  when  we  met.  Next  I 
mentioned  that  one  of  the  companions  of  my  flight  was  a 
young  lady  of  noble  family,  who,  besides  saving  my  life  on 
the  fatal  10th  of  August,  had  helped  me  to  escape  from  the 
Conciergerie,  and  to  whom  I  was  devotedly  attached.  After 
asking  my  father's  forgiveness  for  falling  in  love  without  his 
knowledge  or  consent,  I  besought  him  not  to  accuse  me  of 
recklessness  until  he  heard  the  whole  of  my  story,  nor  to 
pass  judgment  on  my  choice  until  he  saw  Angelique,  who, 
as  I  took  care  to  observe,  was  in  charge  of  her  uncle,  the 
Vicomte  de  Lancy. 

Then  I  informed  him  that  we  proposed  on  the  following 
day  to  make  for  London,  and  should  alight  at  La  Belle 
Sauvage,  in  Ludgate  Hill,  where  he  himself  was  in  the  habit 
of  staying  when  he  went  to  town.  But  as  my  wardrobe 
needed  replenishing,  and  I  could  not  leave  Mile,  de  la 
Tour  until  I  had  seen  her  comfortably  lodged,  and  asccr- 
d  whether  any  of  my  comrades  of  the  regiment  had 
succeeded  in  reaching  England,  he  must  not  expect  to  see 


BY    LAND   AND   SEA 


259 


me  much  under  a  week.  In  the  meantime  I  hoped  he  would 
let  me  have  a  line  in  reply,  saying  how  it  fared  with  him 
and  my  mother,  not  forgetting  the  shop  and  old  Wiggin. 

Though  I  carefully  refrained  from  saying  so,  I  was  not 
without  hope  that  they  might  invite  Angelique  to  make  our 
house  her  home. 

On  the  next  morning  we  went  to  Brighton,  and  after  ex- 
changing our  beggars'  garb  for  garments  more  befitting  our 
condition,  travelled  post  to  London  (I  was  too  happy  to  be 
cheese-paring),  and  put  up,  as  I  had  proposed,  at  La  Belle 
Sauvage. 

The  following  days  we  spent  in  ordering  clothes,  dispos- 
ing of  some  of  Angelique's  jewels  (which  brought  her  a  nice 
sum),  and  in  making  inquiries  about  missing  friends,  several 
of  whom  we  were  so  fortunate  as  to  find  in  London. 

As  we  returned  from  one  of  these  excursions,  some  four 
days  after  our  arrival,  a  post-chaise,  bespattered  with  mud 
and  drawn  by  perspiring  horses,  rattled  into  the  Sauvage 
yard.  When  the  carriage  stopped,  who  should  step  out  of  it 
but  my  father  !  He  was  turning  round  to  offer  my  mother 
his  hand  when  I  ran  up  and  received  her  in  my  arms. 

What  happened  next  I  can  scarce  tell.  The  arms  of 
both  seemed  to  be  round  me  at  once.  I  heard  my  father 
say,  "  Fritz  !     Fritz  !     Oh,  my  dear  boy  !" 

My  mother  murmured,  weeping,  "  My  son  who  was  dead 
is  alive  !     Thank  God  !  thank  God  !" 

Then,  recovering  her  composure,  she  spied  Angelique, 
who  was  looking  on  in  glad  surprise. 

"  Is  that  the  dear  lass  that  saved  your  life  and  stole  your 
heart  ?"  asked  my  mother. 

"The  same,  mother." 

"  God  bless  her  bonny  face  !"  says  she,  and  taking  my 
sweetheart  in  her  arms,  gave  her  a  hearty  Lancashire  hug- 
ging and  kissing. 


260  FOR    HONOR   AND    LIFE 

But  as  all  this  was  in  public,  and  the  people  in  the  inn 
yard  were  staring  at  us  in  open-mouthed  wonder,  I  invited 
my  father  and  mother  to  accompany  Angelique,  her  uncle, 
and  myself  to  our  sitting-room.  There  we  had  a  long  and 
pleasant,  albeit  somewhat  lively  talk.  My  father,  though 
naturally  and  by  habit  abstemious,  ordered  champagne,  and 
became  quite  hilarious.  My  dear  mother  was  quietly  hap- 
py, sitting  between  Angelique  and  myself,  holding  a  hand 
of  each. 

The  result  was  all  I  could  desire.  Our  betrothal  re- 
ceived parental  sanction  on  the  spot,  and  Angelique  ac- 
cepted an  invitation  to  go  with  us  to  Lancashire  and  make 
our  house  her  home  until  she  had  one  of  her  own. 

My  tale  is  told,  for,  although  I  was  only  at  the  beginning 
of  my  career,  and  since  that  time  have  fought  in  many  cam- 
paigns, and  met  with  many  stirring  adventures,  it  is  no 
part  of  my  present  design  to  narrate  any  other  than  those 
which  arose  out  of  my  service  with  the  noble  regiment  of 
the  Swiss  Guard,  where  I  learned  that  honor  is  more  pre- 
cious than  life,  and  a  stainless  name  better  than  riches. 


THE    END 


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WALTER  BESANT'S  WORKS. 


We  give,  without  hesitation,  the  foremost  place  to  Mr.  Besant,  whose 
work,  always  so  admirable  and  spirited,  acquires  double  importance  from 
the  enthusiasm  with  which  it  is  inspired. — Blackwood's  Magazine,  Edin- 
burgh. 

Mr.  Besant  wields  the  wand  of  a  wizard,  let  him  wave  it  in  whatever 
direction  he  will.  .  .  .  The  spell  that  dwells  in  this  wand  is  formed  by  in- 
tense earnestness  and  vivid  imagination. — Spectator,  London. 

There  is  a  bluff,  honest,  hearty,  and  homely  method  about  Mr.  Besant's 
stories  which  makes  them  acceptable,  and  because  he  is  so  easily  under- 
stood is  another  reason  why  he  is  so  particularly  relished  by  the  English 
public. — JV.  Y.  Times. 


ALL  IJST  A  GARDEN  FAIR.  4to, 
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ALL  SORTS  AND  CONDITIONS  OF 
MEN".  Illustrated.  12mo,  Cloth, 
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ARMOREL  OF  LYONESSE.  Il- 
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CHILDREN  OF  GIBEON.  12mo, 
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DOROTHY  FORSTER.  4to,  Paper, 
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FIFTY  YEARS  AGO.     Illustrated. 

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FOR  FAITH  AND  FREEDOM.  Il- 
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HERR  PAULUS.  8vo,  Paper,  35 
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LIFE  OF  COLIGNY.  32mo,  Cloth, 
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4 to,  Paper, 


SELF  OR  BEARER. 

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LONDON.  Illustrated.  Svo,  Cloth, 
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ST.  KATHARINE'S  BY  THE  TOW- 
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THE  BELL  OF  ST.  PAUL'S.     8vo, 

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THE    HOLY    ROSE.      4to,  Paper, 

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THE  INNER  HOUSE.     Svo,  Paper, 

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THE  IVORY  GATE.     12mo,  Cloth, 

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THE  REBEL  QUEEN.  Illustrated. 
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THE  WORLD  WENT  VERY 
WELL  THEN.  Illustr'd.  12mo, 
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TO  CALL  HER  MINE.  Illustrated. 
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UNCLE  JACK  AND  OTHER  STO- 
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By  CONSTANCE  F.  WOOLSON. 


IIOKACE  CHASE.     ANovel.     lGmo,  Cloth,  $1  25. 

JUPITER  LIGHTS.     ANovel.     16mo,  Cloth,  $1  25. 

EAST  ANGELS.    ANovel.     lGmo,  Cloth,  $1  25. 

ANNE.     A  Nov,].     Illustrated.    16mo,  Cloth,  $1  25. 

FOR  THE   MAJOR.    ANovelette.    16mo,  Cloth,  $1  00. 

CASTLE   NOWHERE.     Lake -Country  Sketches.     16mo,  Cloth, 
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Delightful  touches  justify  those  who  see  many  points  of  analogy  be- 
twei  n  Miss  Woolson  and  George  Eliot. — N.  Y.  Times. 

For  tenderness  and  purity  of  thought,  for  exquisitely  delicate  sketch- 
ing of  characters,  Miss  Woolson  is  unexcelled  among  writers  of  fiction. 
— New  Orleans  Picayune. 

Characterization  is  Miss  Woolson's  forte.  Her  men  and  women  are 
not  mere  puppets,  Imt  original,  breathing,  and  finely  contrasted  creations. 

—  Chicago  Trib  u  ne. 

Miss  Woolson  is  one  of  the  few  novelists  of  the  day  who  know  how  to 
make  conversation,  bow  to  individualize  the  speakers,  how  to  exclude 
rabid  realism  without  falling  into  literary  formality. — X.   V.  Tribune. 

Constance  Fenimore  Woolson  may  easily  become  the  novelist  laureate. 

—  Boston  Olobe. 

Miss  Woolson  has  a  graceful  fancy,  a  ready  wit,  a  polished  style,  and 
conspicuous  dramatic  power;  while  her  skill  in  the  development  of  a 
story  is  very  remarkable. — London  Life. 

Miss  Woolson  oever  once  follows  the  beaten  track  of  the  orthodox 

ist,  bul   Btrikes  a  new  and  richly-loaded  vein  which,  so  far,  is  all 

her  own  ;  and  thus  we  feel,  on  reading  one  of  her  work-,  a  fresh  Bensa- 

tion,  and  we  put  down  the  hook  with  a  Bigh  to  think  our  pleasant  task 
of  reading  ii  is  finished.  The  author's  lines  must  have  fallen  to  her  in 
very  pleasanl  places;  or  she  has,  perhaps,  within  herself  the  wealth  of 
womanly  love  and  tenderness  she  pours  so  freely  into  all  she  writes. 
Such  hook-  as  hers  do  mucli  to  elevate  the  moral  tone  of  the  day — a 
quality  sadly  wanting  in  novel,  of  the  time. —  Whiteliall  Review,  London. 


Published  r.v   BARPER  &   BROTHERS,  New  York. 

r  The  tu  a  le  by  all  bool  U  be  sent  by  the  publish*  rs, 

any  parte/  the  United  States,  Canada,  or  Mexico,  on 


By  MARY  E.  WILKINS. 


JANE  FIELD.     A  Novel.     Illustrated.     16mo,  Cloth,  Orna- 
mental, $1  25. 
YOUNG  LUCRETIA,  and  Other  Stories.     Illustrated.     Post 

8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $1  25. 
GILES  COREY,  YEOMAN.     A  Play.     Illustrated.     32mo, 

Cloth,  Ornamental,  50  cents. 
A  NEW  ENGLAND  NUN,  and  Other  Stories.     16mo,  Cloth, 

Ornamental,  $1  25. 
A  HUMBLE  ROMANCE,  and  Other  Stories.     16mo,  Cloth, 

Ornamental,  $1  25. 

The  pathos  of  New  England  life,  its  intensities  of  repressed  feeling,  its 
homely  tragedies  and  its  tender  humor,  have  never  been  better  told  than 
by  Mary  E.  Wilkins,  and  in  her  own  field  she  stands  to-day  without  a 
rival. — Boston  Courier. 

It  takes  just  such  distinguished  literary  art  as  Mary  E.  Wilkins  possesses 
to  give  an  episode  of  New  England  its  soul,  pathos,  and  poetry.—- N.  Y. 
Times. 

The  simplicity,  purity,  and  quaintness  of  these  stories  set  them  apart  in 
a  niche  of  distinction  where  they  have  no  rivals. — Literary  World,  Boston. 

The  author  has  the  unusual  gift  of  writing  a  short  story  which  is  com- 
plete in  itself,  having  a  real  beginning,  a  middle,  and  an  end. —  Observer, 
N.  Y. 

A  gallery  of  striking  studies  in  the  humblest  quarters  of  American 
country  life.  No  one  has  dealt  with  this  kind  of  life  better  than  Miss 
Wilkins.  Nowhere  are  there  to  be  found  such  faithful,  delicately  drawn, 
sympathetic,  tenderly  humorous  pictures. — N.  Y  Tribune. 

The  charm  of  Miss  Wilkins's  stories  is  in  her  intimate  acquaintance  and 
comprehension  of  humble  life,  and  the  sweet  human  interest  she  feels  and 
makes  her  readers  partake  of,  in  the  simple,  common,  homely  people  she 
draws. — Springfield  Republican. 

The  author  has  given  us  studies  from  real  life  which  must  be  the  result 
of  a  lifetime  of  patient,  sympathetic  observation.  .  .  .  No  one  has  done 
the  same  kind  of  work  so  lovingly  and  so  well. — Christian  Register, 
Boston. 

Published  by  PIARPER  &  BROTHERS,  New  York. 

4ST  The  above  works  are  for  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  will  be  sent  by  mail,  postage  pre- 
paid, to  any  part  of  the  United  States,  Canada,  or  Mexico,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


BEN-HUR:  A  TALE  OF  THE  CHRIST. 


By  Lew.  Wallace.  16mo,  Cloth,  81  50.  Garfield 
Edition.  Two  Volumes.  Twenty  Full -page  Pho- 
togravures. Over  1000  Illustrations  as  Marginal 
Drawings  by  William  Martin  Johnson.  Crown 
8vo,  Printed  on  Fine  Super-calendered  Plate-paper, 
Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt  Tops,  Bound  in  Silk  and 
Gold,  S7  00.     (In  a  Gladstone  Box.) 

Anything  so  startling,  new,  and  distinctive  as  the  leading  feature  of 
this  romance  does  not  often  appear  in  works  of  fiction.  .  .  .  Some  of  Mr. 
Wallace's  writing  is  remarkable  for  its  pathetic  eloquence.  The  scene? 
described  in  the  New  Testament  are  rewritten  with  the  power  and  skill  of 
an  accomplished  master  of  style. — iV.  Y  Times. 

Its  real  basis  is  a  description  of  the  life  of  the  Jews  and  Romans  at  the 
beginning  of  the  Christian  era,  and  tins  is  both  forcible  and  brilliant.  .  .  . 
We  are  carried  through  a  surprising  variety  ol  ;  we  witness  a  Bea- 

fight,  a  chariot-race,  the  internal  economy  of  a  Roman  galley,  domestic  in- 
at  Antioch,  at  Jerusalem,  and  among  the  tribes  of  the  desert;  pal- 
ac  !8,  prisons,  the  haunts  of  dissipated  Roman  youth,  the  houses  of  pious 
families  of  Israel.  There  is  plenty  of  exciting  incident;  everything  is  ani. 
mated,  vivid  and  glowing. — N.   Y.  Tribune 

From  the  opening  of  the  volume  to  the  very  close  the  reader's  interest 
will  be  kept  at  the  highest  pitch,  and  the  novel  "ill  be  pronounced  by  all 
one  of  tin'  greatest  novels  of  the  day. — Boston  Post. 

"  Ben  Hur"  1^  interesting,  and  its  characterization  is  fine  and  strong. 

hile  it  evinces  careful  study  of  the  period  in  which  the  scene  is  laid, 

and  will  help  those  who  read  it  with   reasonable  attention  to  realize  the 

nature  and  conditions  of  Hebrew  life  in  Jerusalem  and  Roman  life  at 

Antioch  at  the  time  of  our  Saviour's  advent, —  Examiner,  N.  V. 

The  book  is  one  of  unquestionable  power,  and  will  be  read  with  mi- ' 
:  interest  by  many  readers  who  arc  weary  of  the  conventional  novel 
md  romance. — Boston  Journal. 

..f  the  most  remarkable  and  delightful  books.  It  is  as  real  an  1 
warm  as  life  itself,  and  as  attractive  as  the  grandest  and  most  heroic 
chapters  of  hi  tory.— Indianapolis  Journal. 


Published  bv  BARPER  A-   BROTHERS,  Xkw  York. 

'■»>•  TliC  above  work  "-ill  be  ii  nt  bymail,  post  .  to  any  part  ofth*  United 

States.  Canada,  or  Mexico,  on  receipt  of  the  \nice. 


THE  PRINCE  OF  INDIA 


Or,  Why  Constantinople  Fell.  By  Lew.  Wallace,  Author  of 
"  Ben-Hur,"  "  The  Boyhood  of  Christ,"  etc.  Two  Vol- 
umes. 16mo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  $2  50;  Half  Leather, 
$4  00  ;  Three-quarter  Leather,  $5  00  ;  Three-quarter  Calf, 
$6  00  ;  Three-quarter  Crushed  Levant,  $8  00.    (In  a  Box.) 

General  Wallace  has  achieved  the  (literary)  impossible.  He  has  struck 
the  bull's-eye  twice  in  succession.  After  his  phenomenal  hit  with  "  Ben- 
Hur  "  he  has  given  us,  in  "  The  Prince  of  India,"  another  book  which  no  man 
will  say  shows  the  least  falling  off.  ...  It  is  a  great  book. — N.  Y.  Tribune. 

A  great  story  It  has  power  and  hre.  We  believe  that  it  will  be  read 
and  re-read. — N.  Y.  Sun. 

For  boldness  of  conception  this  romance  is  unique  of  its  kind.  The 
amount  of  research  shown  is  immense.  The  mere  mise  en  scene  necessary 
for  the  proper  presentation  of  the  Byzantine  period  alone  involves  a  life- 
long study.  .  .  .  There  are  incidents  innumerable  in  this  romance,  and  all 
are  worked  up  with  dramatic  effect. — N.  Y.  Times. 

Its  human  interest  is  so  vivid  that  it  is  one  of  those  historical  novels  laid 
down  reluctantly  only  with  the  last  page  with  the  feeling  that  one  turns 
away  from  men  and  women  with  whom  for  awhile  he  lived  and  moved.  .  .  . 
A  masterly  and  great  and  absorbing  work  of  fiction.  .  .  .  Dignity,  a  superb 
conjunction  of  historical  and  imaginative  material,  the  movement  of  a 
strong  river  of  fancy,  an  unfailing  quality  of  human  interest,  fill  it  over- 
fiowingly. — JV.  Y.  Mail  and  Express. 

Politics,  romance,  religious  discussion,  war,  statesmanship,  and  love,  all 
have  their  part  as  elements  of  interest,  and  one  may  be  sure  that  not  Bul- 
wer  himself  could  have  treated  a  notable  epoch  in  history  with  greater  fidel- 
ity to  established  fact  or  more  splendor  of  constructive  imagination. — Bos- 
ton Beacon. 

In  invention,  in  the  power  to  make  mind-impressions,  in  thrilling  inter- 
est, "  The  Prince  of  India  "  is  not  inferior  to  "  Ben-Hur."  The  visit  to  the 
grave  of  Hiram,  King  of  Tyre,  with  which  the  story  opens,  at  once  arouses 
the  reader's  keenest  interest,  which  culminates  in  the  closing  pages  of  the 
second  volume  with  the  downfall  of  Constantinople. — Philadelphia  Inquirer. 

Abounds  in  scenes  that  have  few  rivals  outside  of  the  "Arabian  Nights." 
— iV.  Y.  Herald. 

li  The  Prince  of  India  "  is  a  succession  of  Oriental  pictures,  faithful  and 
ample  in  detail.  It  is  beyond  question  an  able  historical  novel,  an  absorb- 
ing theological  novel,  a  refined  and  lofty  love  story.  ...  Its  qualities  are 
thought- arousing,  educating,  pictorial,  spiritually  analytic. —  St.  Bonis 
(Jlobe-B>emocrat. 


Published  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  New  York. 

For  sale  by  all  booksellers,  or  will  be  sent  by  mail,  postage  prepaid,  to  any  part 
of  the  United  Slate*,  Canada,  or  Mexico,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


R  D.  BLACKMORFS   NOVELS. 


Bis  descriptions  are  wonderfully  vivid  and  natural.      His  pages  are 
•  nod  everywhere  with  great  humor  ;  the  quaint,  dry  turns  of  thought 
remind  you  occasionally  of  Fielding;. — London  Times. 

Mr.  Blackmore  always  writes  like  a  scholar  and  a  gentleman — Athe- 

ml  Urn,    London. 

Bis  tales,  all  of  them,  are  pre-eminently  meritorious.  They  are  re- 
markable for  their  careful  elaboration,  the  conscientious  finish  of  their 
workmanship,  their  affluence  of  striking  dramatic  and  narrative  incident, 
their  close  observation  and  general  interpretation  of  nature,  their  profusion 
of  picturesque  description,  and  their  quiet  and  sustained  humor.  Besides, 
they  are  pervaded  by  a  bright  and  elastic  atmosphere  which  diffuses  a 
cheery  feeling  of  healthful  and  robust  vigor.  While  they  charm  us  by 
ily  vivacity  and  their  naturalness,  they  never  in  the  slightest 
degree  transcend  the  limits  of  delicacy  or  good  taste.  While  radiating 
warmth  and  brightness,  they  are  as  pure  as  the  new-fallen  snow.  .  .  .  Their 
literary  execution  is  admirable,  and  their  dramatic  power  is  as  exceptional 
as  their  moral  purity. —  Christian  Intelligencer,  N.  Y. 


LORNA    DOONE.     Illustrated,     12mo,  Cloth,  $1  00;   8vo, 
Taper,  40  cents. 

KIT  AND   KITTY.     12mo,  Cloth,  $1  25  ;  Paper,  35  cents. 

SPRINGHAVEN.     Illustrated.     12mo,  Cloth,  $1   50  ,    4to, 
Taper,  _!5  cents. 

CHRISTOWELL.     4to,  Paper,  20  cents. 

CRADOCK    NOWELL.     8vo,  Paper,  60  cents. 

EREMA  ;    on,  Mv   Father's  Sin.     8vo,  Paper,  50  cents. 

MARY    ANERLEY.     10mo,  Cloth,  $1   00;   4to,   Taper,   15 

cents. 

TOMMY      UPMORE.       16mo,    Cloth,    50    cents;    Paper,    8fi 
cents  ;  4to,  Paper,  20  cents. 


Published  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  New  York. 

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